Identity
by MarauderLover7
Summary: Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy, even among wizards. The most noteworthy thing about him, however, was his talent for getting himself into trouble, which surpassed even that of his godfather. Sequel to "Innocent" and "Initiate".
1. Choices Made

_He was breaking; he could feel it, the lack of strength in his arms and legs, the sharp pain that made him think his head was going to explode, and over the top of it all, a cold, high voice laughed at him._

Quirinus sat upright, gasping, and tore through his own mind, checking, but it was just him in there.

_Just me, _he told himself. _Not Him, just me-_ He kneaded his eyes and peered out into the main part of his flat. His flat was tiny – there was only a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom, and none of it was in awfully good condition. There were, however, layers and layers of warding over everything. If someone even breathed in the hallway, Quirinus would know about it. And since there were no alarms going, there was no one else inside. _Just me, _he told himself again.

He picked up the wand – which he'd managed to procure from Ollivander – on his bedside table, and flicked it. A moment later, a glass of water drifted into the room, and Quirinus gulped it down, and then set both the glass and his wand down on his bedside table, with shaking hands, and tried to pull himself together.

He almost wished Dumbledore had handed him to the Ministry, so that he'd ended up in Azkaban. He'd done enough bad things that he'd have been driven mad quickly, and would have been too mad to be scared. But Quirinus wasn't in Azkaban, he was in a dingy flat in South London with nothing to do and far too much time to himself.

So Quirinus, being a Ravenclaw, _thought. _He'd reached several conclusions; one was that Azkaban was the perfect punishment, for anyone except a Ravenclaw; Hufflepuffs would hate the isolation, Slytherins would feel like they were wasting time, that they could accomplish nothing and Gryffindors would hate sitting still. Ravenclaws, though, would hate the deterioration of their minds, certainly, and the lack of stimulation, but after a while, they wouldn't have enough of a mind left to care.

A Ravenclaw that had done horrible things though, and was not sent to Azkaban, would be forced to think about things, and that, Quirinus thought, was a worse punishment.

His second conclusion was that Dumbledore knew that. Dumbledore knew he would think about Christopher, think about what wasted potential that was, and what an awful thing it was, to kill a child. Dumbledore must have known that Quirinus would think about all of the other things he could have learned in the year that he instead repeated his first year at Hogwarts, thought about the way he'd _failed._

Gryffindors took failure as a challenge, Slytherins as an opportunity to build character. Hufflepuffs didn't mind failing as long as they'd tried their best, but to Quirinus, to a Ravenclaw… Quirinus had never failed at anything before, not a test or assignment, not a job application… And to fail at something he'd invested so much in… Quirinus rubbed his temples and sank back into his pillows.

He was just drifting back off to sleep, when his wand twitched and started to emit a shrill ringing noise. Quirinus sat upright and seized it. He wrestled with the covers for a moment, and then he was free, and standing in the middle of his small bedroom, wand held out before him, trembling.

There was a sharp knock on his door. Quirinus held his breath.

"Open the door, boy!" a gruff voice called. When Quirinus didn't reply, there was a low murmur and then the voice said, "I can see you in your bedroom, you know!" Quirinus' stomach dropped. "So I know you're there, and I'm not in the mood to go blasting down any doors today, but I will if I-"

"Coming," Quirinus managed. "Sorry, I'm coming. I was just-" Quirinus didn't bother with an excuse, though; whoever it was knew he'd just been standing there. Quirinus undid the locks – both magical, and mechanical – on his door, and opened it a crack.

A rather terrifying, electric blue eye, stared right back at him. Quirinus swallowed a scream, and opened the door a tiny bit wider. Alastor Moody's grimacing face, and, over his shoulder, Sirius Black's grim one, stared back at him.

"H-hello," Quirinus said, surprised, and a little embarrassed at the stutter that slipped out. He thought he'd grown out of that years ago, when Professor Flitwick had put an end to the bullying.

"Evening," Moody said, with a rather scary smile. It was obvious they were there to see him, so Quirinus stepped away from the door and let them in. "You can put that down," Moody said, waving a hand at Quirinus' wand. "You're not allowed to hurt us, and even if you tried to, we're more than a match for you." Quirinus tucked it into his pocket.

"Can I- would you like tea-?"

"No, thank you," Black said, speaking for the first time. "We're just checking in."

"Making sure I'm still alive?" Quirinus asked.

"No," Black said, looking confused. "Making sure you haven't hurt anyone else."

"Oh," Quirinus said. Moody took a swig from his hip-flask and limped off toward the bedroom. "Where's he g-going?" he demanded.

"Dumbledore said he's visited you," Black said quietly. "And he said you were- well, that you were holding up your part of the Vow. Mad-Eye and I wanted to make sure, though, as you can probably understand."

"Certainly," Quirinus said stiffly. He eyed Black for a moment, curious despite himself. "You don't trust Dumbledore's word?"

"I don't trust _you_," Black said simply. Qurinus was a talented Occlumens – it was one of the only good things that had come out of the past year – but he had no such talent in Legillimency. He wished he did, though; he would have been very interested to see what Black was thinking. "We kept you out of Azkaban, and out of Voldemort's-" Quirinus twitched. "-hands, and the more I think about it, the less I think you deserve it." Black's voice wasn't angry, or cruel, just troubled. "I'm going to make sure you aren't responsible for hurting anyone else."

"I swore the Vow, so-"

"I'm just taking precautions," Black said, with a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "And I came to give you a warning; just because I didn't tell the Ministry who you are, or that you're alive, doesn't mean I haven't told them anything. Both the Ministry and Gringotts have a description of your magic – I told them you were the one who gave Croaker to Voldemort-" Quirinus couldn't help the twitch that accompanied the name. "- and also the one who killed Krognug the goblin and broke into Gringotts – so if you go to either of those places, don't expect a- well, don't expect a warm welcome."

"Where am I supposed to find work then? Or get money?"

"Your break-in would have been successful if the Stone hadn't already been moved," Black said. "You've got a knowledge of the inner workings of Gringotts that only the goblins have, and they're not strictly covered by your Vow. You're less familiar with the Ministry – at least as far as I know – but your mind is susceptible to Voldemort." This time, Quirinus made the effort not to flinch, and Black gave him a thoughtful look. "He won't try to use you again, not in the same way as before, but he'd have no problems getting information out of you if he ever found you again, and you're too smart to stay stuck in a low-level Ministry job.

"You'd climb," Black continued. "We already know you like power, and that you'll do anything-" Black's lip curled. "-to obtain it. And climbing would give you access to all sorts of information that no one particularly wants in Voldemort's hands."

"So you're cutting me out of the wizarding world?" Quirinus said curtly. "Alienating me… no Ministry, no Gringotts… Dumbledore would never let me into the school… What else is there?"

"More than you'd have if you were in Azkaban, or dead," Black replied quietly. "Mad-Eye?"

"Nothing suspicious," Moody replied, limping back into the room. His magical eye roamed over Quirinus, while the other eye stayed perfectly still. Quirinus shivered.

"I suppose you don't need anything else, then?" Quirinus asked weakly. For all that he wanted them to leave, he'd much rather their company than the company of his own thoughts.

"I've said everything I needed to," Black said.

"Should I expect another check-in?" Quirinus asked him, a little sarcastically.

"Oh, yes," Moody said, grinning rather scarily. "See, I've retired, boy, and I'll need something to do, to keep me busy. We'll be getting to know each other well, I should think." For the first time since arriving, Black smiled, or rather, smirked. "Until next time!"

"Yes, good bye," Quirinus said, rather faintly.

* * *

><p>"Keep close, Hydrus," Lucius said, without looking back to see whether Hydrus had listened or not, because he knew he would have.<p>

"I thought we were going to look at broomsticks," Hydrus said, the faintest whinging tone slipping into his voice.

"And we shall," Lucius said, "right after I finish my business with Mr Grotler." Hydrus said nothing; Lucius glanced back at him and saw his son's attention had been captured by a ragged wizard huddled beside a rubbish bin.

"How revolting," Hydrus said, taking no care to keep his voice down. "I think I'd rather die before I lived like that." The wizard's face scrunched up, and he reached into the pocket of his tattered robes, but Lucius already had his wand out and had hit the man with a non-verbal Stunning spell. Hydrus looked delighted.

"This way," Lucius said curtly, and Hydrus hurried after him.

Grotler's Apothecary was a dingy little shop, squeezed between a shop selling magical creatures where Lucius had once purchased an Occcamy, and an even smaller shop where one could pay to have curses or enchantments placed on people or objects. Grotler himself looked right at home in the dim, cramped space of his shop; he was a squat man, with one eye, a hunched back, and rather lopsided smile.

Hydrus looked around at the ingredients and phials that lined the ceiling-high shelves.

"Don't touch anything," Lucius warned him.

"Mr Malfoy," Grotler wheezed, limping toward him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to gauge your interest in certain items that have come into my possession," Lucius said, procuring a list from his robes. Grotler snatched the parchment out of his hand and examined it.

"Ye're scared of the raids," Grotler said knowingly. "Aren't ye, Mr Malfoy?"

"That's none of your business," Lucius replied, frowning. Scared certainly wasn't the right word, in any case. Concerned was more appropriate, in his opinion. He'd worked far too hard to get to where he was, only to lose it because a nosy Auror discovered a few poisons in his home.

His joke of a niece and her Auror partner thankfully hadn't found anything, but Lucius had doubted she would be the last Auror to try to investigate him. He shivered at the thought of McKinnon being in charge of such a raid; she, he knew, wouldn't leave until she'd found something. Lucius intended to make sure that there was nothing to find.

"What is your business," Lucius continued, "is whether or not you're interested in any of those."

"And if I'm not?" Grotler wheezed.

"I'm visiting Borgin next week," Lucius told him. "He'll buy what's left over… I just thought, given that potions are your field, that you might appreciate a chance at some of the more… unique items."

"Borgin'll buy anything, without really appreciating it," Grotler said, scowling through his grubby window at Borgin and Burke's. "It'd be a waste to see some of these things end up with _him._" Grotler limped back to the counter to fetch a quill and started to write on Lucius' carefully constructed list. Lucius curled his lip. "There ye are." Grotler thrust the list at him. "I'll take those off ye hands, if ye'd like." Lucius folded the list, taking care to touch it as little as possible, and tucked it into one of his pockets.

"A pleasure to deal with you as always," he said, as Grotler hobbled off to inspect one of his displays. "I'll drop by next week." Grotler waved over his shoulder. "Hydrus," Lucius barked, for Hydrus was leaning over a fat, bubbling cauldron near the back of the shop. "Come along."

The pair of them left the shop and made their way out of Knockturn Alley, and up to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hydrus was almost bouncing by the time they arrived, and had a smile on his face that somehow reminded Lucius of Draco.

The thought of his younger son made Lucius sigh. He'd hoped that the holidays would be good for Draco, would allow him to clear his head. Lucius had even asked Dobby to stop Draco's post; there wasn't much he could do about Draco's choice of company at school, but he could certainly help it in his own home. And, he rather hoped Draco would find he didn't miss his Housemates, and that he would find himself enjoying the pureblooded children's company, the way Hydrus did.

Draco was yet to say anything about his letters, which Lucius took to be a good sign, but other than a few brief exchanges with the Nott boy, and the younger Greengrass girls, Draco seemed not to care much for his Slytherin peers, nor, Lucius had to admit, did they seem to care for him. Young Daphne Greengrass, who Hydrus got on very well with, and Pansy Parkinson, who'd once been so close with Draco, seemed to delight in teasing him. Or so Narcissa had told Lucius one night, after dinner.

Other than at meals, or on special occasions, Lucius had hardly seen Draco all holidays. Lucius had made no more effort to have contact with Draco, than Draco had made to have contact with him. It wasn't that Lucius didn't care for his son – though he had been furious when he learned about Draco's misadventure down the trapdoor with Potter – it was simply that Lucius didn't know what to do with him, the way he did with Hydrus.

Hydrus was like a younger Lucius, like the pureblood children Lucius had grown up knowing. Draco was like… well, he was like an odd mixture of Sirius and Regulus Black, who Lucius had known at school. Sirius had been far more antagonistic than Draco ever was though, and Regulus had been far more… well, far more _Slytherin. _Lucius, as a Slytherin himself, from a long line of Slytherins, had no idea what to do with his Gryffindor son. Lucius sighed again, and called Hydrus over to him.

"Do you think Draco would like a broomstick?" he asked.

"No," Hydrus said. "He never comes flying. Get him a book; all he ever does is read. He's almost as bad as that Granger, but at least Draco's only a bloodtraitor, and not a mudblood." Then he said. "Come and look at the Nimbus 2001, Father, it's incredible. The best broom available, I heard the manager say. I expect I'll need it, if I'm to do my best at Seeker tryouts."

"I expect you will," Lucius agreed, though he thought Hydrus could probably fly one of those awful school broomsticks and still make it into the team. Hydrus was a good flier – better than Lucius had been at the same age – and they'd spent a lot of time training over the summer. He ought to get in with no trouble at all.

Several thousand galleons later, Lucius found himself in possession of a very smug son, and a carefully wrapped broomstick.

"Father," Hydrus said, sounding puzzled. "The Leaky Cauldron is _that_ way-"

"I'm aware, Hydrus," Lucius drawled.

"Well, then where are we-"

"Florish and Blott's," Lucius replied.

"Why?" Hydrus asked. "We're not doing our school shopping until next-"

"You said Draco would prefer a book, did you not?" Lucius said, and gestured for Hydrus to keep up.

* * *

><p>"Draco," Mother said, knocking firmly on the door. "Who are you talking to?"<p>

"No one," Draco replied, hastily scribbling his name down at the end of his letter.

"Go," he whispered, pressing the letter into his visitor's hands. Kreacher vanished with a pop, just as Mother opened the door and strode in, frowning.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she said.

"About what?" Draco asked, making himself comfortable in his desk chair.

"The end of last term," Mother said. Draco's jaw set, but he said nothing. "I- it pleases me you believe your housemates are worthy of such loyalty." Again, Draco stayed silent. "They must be remarkable people to have earned such a response from you." Draco waited. "What does not please me," Mother said, her voice still light, "is the way in which you chose to display that loyalty."

Again, Draco said nothing. He hadn't gone into specifics about what had happened the night he went down the trapdoor, or rather _why_ he'd gone down there, but either his parents had been told, or they'd simply reached the right conclusions. Draco didn't know a huge amount about the war; only that his father and Aunt Bella had served the Dark Lord, and enjoyed it, and then Potter had defeated the Dark Lord and supposedly ruined everything.

Draco though, despite his upbringing, was rather fond of Potter, and of Weasley and Granger. And, he was rather fond of himself, and if the Dark Lord had managed to get the Stone, Draco would have been killed, along with his friends.

"Well?" Mother said. "Do you have _anything_ to say?"

"Not really," Draco said. "It's already happened. I can't change anything." _Not that I would, anyway, but she doesn't need to know that. _Draco's stomach wriggled guiltily, but he dropped his eyes and tried to look apologetic.

"You can't change what's happened," Mother corrected. "But what if something like this happens again? Then what, Draco? Will you put us all in danger, by being so openly defiant toward the man that did so much for us, back when he was in power?" There was a faint tinge of distaste in her expression, and Draco thought it might have affected him more, had he not grown used to it on his brother's face. Still, this was Mother.

"I won't worry you like that again, Mother," he said. "I promise. I never meant to endanger the family." That part was true. He'd understood his family mightn't like his decision, that they wouldn't support it, but he hadn't thought that they'd be in danger… only that he would be, because the Dark Lord was trying to come back, and the Dark Lord, everyone knew, didn't tolerate blood traitors. "I was only trying to help-"

"Your housemates," Mother said. "I know."

"Not my housemates," Draco mumbled.

"Oh?" Mother asked, arching a thin eyebrow.

"My friends," Draco said.

"Ah," Mother said, slowly, giving him a thoughtful look. "Your friends. I see." After a moment, she let out a sigh. "Might I tell you something?"

"Of course, Mother," Draco replied.

"Bellatrix is my sister, and I care for her very much," Mother said, almost sternly.

"Yes, Mother," Draco said. "I know."

"And it saddens me to see her in Azkaban," Mother said, a shadow falling over her face. "But the Ministry believes that is where she belongs, and regardless of my differences in opinion with the Ministry, it would be foolish of me to contest that. Far better that I say nothing, and go along with them, than contest her imprisonment and be prohibited from seeing her." Mother eyed Draco for a moment. "Do you understand me?"

Draco might not have, had he not been subjected to that enlightening talk about red and green with Dumbledore. Mother meant to tell him he could go along with people to keep them happy, without necessarily acting to help them, or agreeing with them.

She certainly had given him something to think about, something he wouldn't have considered before because it seemed too… sneaky, or something. If Draco disagreed with people, he had a tendency to tell them so, and Granger had once suggested that was why he struggled to make friends.

But now, Draco had friends, and he _wanted_ to go along with them, regardless of what his family thought. He still cared for his family, but they could be rather narrow-minded about certain things, and stubborn about others. His Sorting, for example. Draco would have huffed, but Mother was still there, watching him closely.

_So maybe it's my family that I go along with to keep happy, the way that Mother goes along with the Ministry…? _Draco frowned, thinking. That would mean his loyalty was to his friends, rather than his family… _Or, it could mean my loyalty is to me, and what makes me happy, and what keeps me alive, _Draco told himself, and nodded.

"I understand," he said slowly, thinking that Mother probably hadn't intended for him to reach _this_ conclusion.

"Very good," Mother said. "So, no more reckless adventures?"

"None," Draco said, and then added silently, _that you'll know or worry about._

Mother's expression flickered, and Draco wondered if she'd guessed what he was thinking. He hastily cleared his expression, the way he'd seen Severus do, and then pasted an earnest smile onto his face. Mother smiled back, and then hesitantly reached out to clasp Draco's hand.

"I'm glad," she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. She glanced at the desk, where Draco's quill was steadily dripping ink onto what had been a blank piece of parchment. Mother's expression tightened and she released Draco's hand and smoothed her robes. "I see I interrupted you," she said quietly. She hesitated and then said, "Are you writing to your friends?"

"If that's all right?" he said.

"I can't see why it wouldn't be," Mother replied. Draco watched her face closely.

_Not a lie, _he thought, as Hydrus bellowed for Mother from downstairs, and she slipped out of Draco's room. _Perhaps she doesn't know?_ He discarded that thought immediately. _Father doesn't keep secrets from Mother._

* * *

><p>"Are you taking it?" Remus asked, through numb lips. A steaming coffee cup slid onto the table in front of him. "Thank you," he managed, and their waitress, who would usually have stopped to chat – they were on friendly terms with her, because they were at the Ministry coffee shop so often – glanced between them and slipped away.<p>

"If I'd decided, I would have said so," Dora said, apparently exasperated. "I wanted to see what you thought before I committed to anything." Remus said nothing for a moment, busying himself with adding sugar to his coffee. Dora made an impatient noise. "Well? What do you think?" Remus took a sip, then set his cup down.

"I think it sounds like a wonderful opportunity," he said quietly. "Do you want to go?"

"Like you said, it's a fantastic opportunity," Dora replied, her hair turning a sunny yellow, for just a moment. Then it returned to bubblegum pink. "But I- well- Mum and Dad are here, and all of my friends are here, _you're_ here... And- well, it's so abrupt! I have a week to give them an answer, and if I take it, it's only another week until I'd have to start! But Scrimgeour and Mad-Eye and Charlus Potter are the legends in our Ministry, but they're only that way because of Elliot Pinard! And after they did this thing, Potter and Scrimgeour both went on to be Head Auror!" Dora had a dreamy look on her face. "I mean, Pinard was an Auror during Grindelwald's time… the things he must have learned- and Anastasiya Orlov, and Ken Sato are _huge_ names. I grew up reading their biographies- well, not Sato's, but he's only five years older than I am, so-"

"You haven't answered the question," Remus said quietly, taking another sip of his coffee.

Dore murmured a thank you to the waitress, who was back with a cup of tea, and looked up. There was a very small, very nervous smile on her face.

"I think that this might be something I'd like to do," she said, watching him closely.

_Should have known,_ he thought. _If it wasn't my- problem that ruined everything, something would have. _He watched her fondly, from across the table. _She's young and smart and talented. _The offer, for advanced Auror training was evidence of that; Dora had told him only ten of them, from all around the world had made it in, and Dora was one of only three in Europe that had been offered a place. If that didn't prove her talent, Remus didn't know what could. _And then there's me… old – well, old compared to her - and poor and broken, like I've been telling her for years, now. I'm a school teacher, and only because Dumbledore doesn't listen to the Ministry._

"It's a wonderful opportunity," Remus heard himself say again, and forced a smile at her from across the table.

"Isn't it?" she almost squealed. "Strange that it's located in France, and not somewhere more central, but I suppose it _is _organised by Pinard, and he's a bit old to be moving too far these days…"

As Dora babbled on, excitedly, Remus watched her with that same, forced smile fixed carefully in place, while his world crashed down around him.


	2. A Bad Idea

Remus considered Grimmauld Place to be his home more than he did his cosy but lonely cottage. He'd spent summer there last year, after the attack on his cottage, and had spent the holidays – when he wasn't required to be at school – there as well. And, while Remus wasn't protected by the Fidelius charm the way that Sirius and Harry were, Grimmauld still had some of the best warding outside the Ministry, Gringotts and Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had requested that he stay there for the summer as well, in the interest of keeping him intact until the school year began. Remus hadn't understood that, but Dumbledore had said something about a curse, and then hadn't elaborated, because he feared a self-fulfilling prophecy. Remus had decided to trust that Dumbledore had good reasons for requesting such things and had gone along with it.

As such, Remus no longer rang the doorbell when he arrived, nor did he send his owl Strix, requesting permission to Floo over. In fact, Sirius had given him a key at the beginning of the summer break, which, thanks to wands, was more formality than anything else.

Remus stepped over the creaky floorboard behind the front door, out of habit, and hung his cloak up on the hooks in the hallway. He could smell lunch cooking downstairs, and he could hear thumping upstairs. While it _sounded_ like it was a rampaging hippogriff, Remus knew it was more likely to be Sirius and Harry.

Despite the news Dora had given him the day before, and the full moon – which was only a night away and certainly not helping matters - Remus felt a smile tug at his lips and swung himself up the first few stairs.

The source of the noise became quickly apparent; Remus had only made it to the second floor when a black, furry shape tore out of the library, with a larger, shaggier black shape close behind it. Without slowing, Padfoot made a soft barking noise that sounded like a greeting.

"What did he do?" Remus called after them.

With all the ease of experience, Sirius changed back into his human form, mid-step. Harry, once he realised he was no longer being chased, trotted over to Remus, tail wagging, and changed back, though with less grace than Sirius had demonstrated.

"Nothing," Harry said, grinning. "Just stretching our legs before tomorrow night." Sirius, who'd been grinning as well, glanced at Remus, and his smile faded.

"Not this one," Remus said tiredly. "I think it might be- A difficult one, even with the potion." Sirius shot him a sharp look and Remus pretended not to see it.

"Then I can help," Harry insisted, oblivious to that exchange. "I've had loads of practice," Harry said, before Sirius could finish. "And I'm a bit bigger now-" _That_ at least, was true; Harry had grown a few inches since school finished, though he was still small compared to Padfoot and Moony.

"You can still run straight under me," Sirius pointed out, echoing Remus' thoughts. "And Moony's even taller."

"I appreciate that you want to help," Remus said, and he did; with Dora leaving soon, he'd take what company he could. "But this isn't the one to start with. Please trust me on that."

"The next one's going to be back at Hogwarts," Harry pointed out, scowling.

"And as long as you don't get caught sneaking down to the forest, I don't see that being a problem," Sirius said.

"And have your homework done," Remus added. Harry and Sirius gave him identical, revolted looks, and then grinned at each other. All three of them jumped as Kreacher popped into being beside Harry, and bowed, passing him a thick envelope with his name on it.

"Kreacher can go back in the morning," Kreacher told him, and Harry nodded eagerly and excused himself. Kreacher vanished before either of them could say anything.

"What in Merlin's name-?" Remus asked, looking at Sirius, and Harry's footsteps thudded on the stairs above them.

"Perhaps Harry's forgotten we have two owls in the house." Sirius didn't seem overly concerned, however, just a bit confused; his attention was on Remus. "Everything all right?"

"I was thinking I might lie down before dinner," Remus said, shrugging. "I'm starting to feel the moon." Sirius pursed his lips, but didn't say anything else.

_Odd,_ Remus thought, frowning.

"Is Marlene here for dinner tonight?" Remus asked.

"She's doing one of those stupid raids," Sirius sighed. Following the death of Saul Croaker in the Department of Mysteries, Fudge had set the Auror Department to investigating all Ministry personnel and Ministry associates for association with dark magic. Sirius had said – more than once – over dinners that summer, that he thought it was a waste of time and money. "Said she might stop by later, though." Sirius cocked his head. "Are we expecting Dora?"

"No," Remus said, and then wondered why his voice sounded so defensive. He cleared his throat. "She had other things to do."

Sirius snorted, and left Remus alone on the landing.

* * *

><p>"Next time," Padfoot said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I promise."<p>

"All right," Harry muttered. He was disappointed, but Padfoot had agreed he could have Ron over – since Hermione was staying with her grandfather in Norfolk, and Draco was confined to Malfoy Manor – to keep him company while Padfoot and Moony were gone.

"Hurry _up_, Sirius!" Moony snarled from downstairs. Ron, who was lounging in Harry's desk chair, didn't appear to hear it, but Harry did, and so did Padfoot, who chuckled. "Stop laughing, you sadistic git!" Padfoot sniggered – very quietly - and Harry could hear Moony stomping around downstairs. A glance out the window at the moon told Harry that Moony's transformation wouldn't be for another hour and a bit, so they still had plenty of time, but Moony usually like to be settled at his cottage by then.

"We'll be back in the morning," Padfoot said, taking a step toward the door.

"_Finally!_"

"Keep your hair on, Moony," Padfoot called out the door.

"Why?" came the scathing reply. "In about an hour I'll grow more hair than I know what to do with! And claws, Padfoot, which I will tear you apart with if you don't bloody hurry up!" Padfoot laughed, and Ron, who it seemed _had_ been able to hear that last bit, didn't seem to know what to make of the situation. Harry just shrugged at him. "Padfoot, I swear to- Ow!"

"Master Moony ought to know better," Harry heard Kreacher hiss. "What sort of example is he setting, for Master Harry and Mister Weasley? Kreacher only hopes Master Moony doesn't carry on like this at school, oh yes, he does hope!"

"I'd better save him, I suppose," Padfoot said wryly.

"Who?" Harry asked. "Kreacher or Moony?"

"Not sure yet," Padfoot said. "I suppose I'll find out when I get downstairs."

"I got a letter from Draco yesterday," Harry said to Ron, as Padfoot left.

"What did it say?" Ron asked, looking interested. They'd had three letters from Draco that summer; the first had been smuggled out by Tonks, when she and Auror Prewett did one of the Ministry raids on the Manor, explaining that Dobby had been ordered to stop any owls going to or from Draco.

The second letter had come a few days after Harry's birthday, and contained letters for Harry to send on to Ron and Hermione, as well as a letter and a present for Harry. Draco had given him the biography of Fulbert the Fearful – a wizard famous for being too afraid to ever leave his house – in the hopes that Harry might "at the very least learn that caution _is _a real thing", as well as a box of chocolate frogs.

The third, like the second, had contained letters for Harry, as well as letters to send on to Ron and Hermione, but yesterday's had only contained a letter to Harry.

Harry reached for the letter, which was on his bedside table, and read it aloud to Ron.

"_Potter_,

_Yes, I'm well enough, I suppose. Granger's been recommending books for me to read, and Weasley's last letter had a funny story about his brothers and a gnome. I spent a day with Severus earlier this week, which was nice._

_I'm glad there's only a week and a bit until we go back, and no, I don't think it will be possible for me to come and stay before term starts. Thank you for the offer though._

_If Dobby knew I was writing this, I'm sure he'd want to send his greetings, so here they are._

_Enjoy the rest of your summer, and I'll see you on the train, Potter._

_Draco._

_Tell Weasley and Granger I say hello, but that I can't write; I think I can hear Mother coming upstairs, and I don't want her to catch Kreacher!_

"I know he's his godfather and everything," Ron said, "but imagine spending the day with Snape." Harry, who'd stayed in Snape's office one night several years ago – after Snape decided Padfoot was an unfit guardian and kidnapped Harry – could easily imagine such a thing, and shivered. "What do you think?"

"About Snape?" Harry asked.

"About the letter," Ron said patiently. "Do you reckon he's all right?"

"Hard to tell," Harry said. "I wish we could just ask him outright. Then, if he's happy he can stay, but if he's not, he can stay here for a day or two."

"Maybe Kreacher could take us over?" Ron suggested.

"The wards won't recognise a house elf coming in," Harry said, shaking his head, "but they'd recognise you, and I don't think Mr Malfoy would-"

"Right," Ron said, looking slightly queasy at the idea of facing Mr Malfoy. "Why not you?"

"I lived there for a week, before Padfoot's trial, and Mr Malfoy had me in the wards," Harry said. "He might have undone that, but he was convinced I was going to live there, so, yeah,_ I_ might be able to get in."

"You should go, then," Ron said.

"But you want to see him too," Harry said. "We'll go together, somehow." Ron grinned, and Harry grinned back, but then started to think. "They have wards on their Floo," Harry said, sighing, "so that won't work, and I don't know how to make Portkeys." Ron shook his head, to say that he didn't either. "I could get Padfoot to organise a raid tomorrow," Harry said thoughtfully, "and see if he could take us along."

"Would he?" Ron asked, hopefully.

"Probably not," Harry admitted. Padfoot would take them if it wasn't a raid, but Harry knew Mr Malfoy wouldn't let them onto the grounds, and that Padfoot couldn't be there if they tried to sneak in; Mr Malfoy would probably make sure it cost Padfoot his job, otherwise. "There's always his bike, but I don't know how to drive it, and I think he'd probably- Ron?"

"_Harry_," Ron said, eyes wide, "I have an idea."

* * *

><p>"One foot after the other," Sirius said, "that's the way, Moony." Remus groaned, but managed to stay upright as Sirius guided – or rather, dragged – him out of the fireplace. "Now, stairs, or a hover-"<p>

"Walk," Moony managed hoarsely. He mumbled something else, that even Sirius, with his years of experience interpreting Remus-post-moon could only understand "hover" and "be sick".

Kreacher popped into the kitchen at that moment, probably intending to start breakfast. Remus swayed and covered his ears against the noise of apparition. Kreacher bowed to both of them, and then hurried forward to help Sirius get Remus up the stairs. It was then, that whispers caught his attention, and then Sirius heard footsteps.

"Padfoot," Harry said, appearing with Ron at the top of the stairs. "Hi, Moony." Remus mumbled something that might have been a greeting.

"Where are you off to?" Sirius asked, noticing the rucksack on Harry's shoulder.

"The Burrow," Harry said, with a sideways look at Ron, who smelled nervous.

Sirius opened his mouth to ask him what _exactly_ they were intending to do when they got to the Burrow – he could smell Harry hadn't been lying about that – when the doorbell chimed through the house. Remus winced, and sagged. Kreacher struggled with him for a moment, but Remus had snatched his arm away to block his ears, and Kreacher gave up and went to answer the door.

"Is it all right if Draco stays over tonight?" Harry asked, helping Sirius drag Remus back to his feet.

"He's coming over?" Sirius asked, surprised; last he'd heard, Draco wasn't even supposed to _write_ to Harry.

"Maybe," Harry said, with an odd look on his face.

"Of course he can, kiddo," Sirius said, trying to work out what Harry was thinking. Unfortunately, his expression scrunched up as Moony sank back to the ground, and Sirius couldn't read it any more. Ron hurried forward to help too.

"It's Professor Snape," a snide voice said from the door, "not _Mister_ Snape."

"Kreacher apologises," Sirius heard Kreacher say.

"Indeed. Is Black ab-" Sirius looked up and saw that Snape had just spotted them; Remus draped over Sirius, semi-conscious, and Harry and Ron headed for the kitchen to Floo out. "Black," Snape said flatly, eyeing Remus with distaste. Thankfully, though, he didn't comment.

"I take it you've got a reason for being here?" Sirius asked. "Harry, could you-" Harry returned to lift Remus' other side, and Ron hovered at the top of the stairs, obviously not sure whether he was meant to help or not.

"I thought Potter might want a visitor," Snape said, and Draco's blond head peeked around the front doorframe, taking in the odd scene before him.

"Malfoy?!" Ron said bemusedly, and Harry made an odd noise from under Remus' arm. Draco stepped into the hallway, looking nervous, but relaxed when Snape ushered him inside, and Ron hurried over to him, asking questions.

"I was going to ask if you'd be willing to let him stay for the night," Snape said, "but it appears you have your hands full as it is." His dark eyes drifted over Remus.

"Literally," Draco added, his attention also on Remus.

"Of course he can stay," Sirius said. "Harry already said he would be-" Ron choked on what sounded like a laugh, and Harry shrank as both Snape and Draco turned to stare at him.

"How did you know?" Draco demanded. "I didn't even know until this morning-"

"I would also like to know," Snape drawled, and a guilty smell started to rise off Harry. Ron continued to snigger, at least until Snape turned to him and said, "Well, Weasley?"

"Kreacher, can you put Moony to bed, please? I'll be up in a minute or two." Sirius continued to support Remus, but didn't hold him, and when Kreacher and Remus vanished, Sirius was left rubbing the shoulder that Remus had been leaning on.

"Tea, Snape? Or breakfast?"

"Tea," Snape said. He limped into the hallway and closed the door. Sirius glanced at his leg. No longer was it the flesh-toned one with the clunky foot he'd been given at St Mungo's. Whatever he was using now let him wear a shoe, though he still walked awkwardly.

"Is Draco going to the Burrow with you?" Sirius asked Harry.

"No, we're staying here now," Harry said, as he and Ron ushered Draco back upstairs. "We'll be down in a bit for breakfast!"

* * *

><p>Draco didn't know whether to be touched, or mortified at the lengths that Potter and Weasley had intended to go to, to visit him. And, almost an hour after they'd sat down in Potter's room and told him through laughter and – if Draco wasn't wrong – slight disappointment, what they'd planned to do before Draco had shown up, he still hadn't decided.<p>

He'd recovered enough, though, from his bemusement, to form questions.

"Weasley, why do you even have a flying-"

"Shh!" Potter hissed, tilting his head at the stairs that led down to the kitchen. Draco wasn't sure if it was Black, or Severus that he wanted to keep their now-unnecessary plan from, but fell silent anyway.

"-condition?"

"He's alive," Draco heard Black reply. From his tone, Draco thought he might have shrugged. "Beyond that, I dunno. I've cut him off from the Ministry, and Gringotts-"

"Good," Severus replied.

"But I don't want to alienate him entirely," Black continued. "That seems… cruel."

"I doubt you'd feel the same if it was _you_ that he'd maimed," Severus replied. There was silence, which Draco, Potter and Weasley filled by coming down the stairs. Lupin was there, staring into a cup of steaming tea, and looking rather the worse for wear, though better than he had when Draco had arrived. Black looked up from his conversation with Severus and then went back to it.

"I was thinking about trying to find him a job," Black said.

"A job?" Severus asked flatly, while Potter fetched juice, and Kreacher shooed Draco and Weasley into chairs.

"Who are they talking about?" Weasley asked.

"I don't know," Draco muttered back. Black glanced in their direction, and Draco knew he'd heard them, but didn't seem inclined to stop talking.

"-keep him locked up, we're no better than Voldemort-" Weasley twitched, and Draco sat very still. Potter glanced over his shoulder, apparently interested, and then went back to finding glasses. "-was to him. If we give him a job, that's something that he owes us-"

"He already owes us plenty," Severus said. "Without our interference-"

"I know," Black said patiently, "but how long do you think he's going to sit and brood? I think Dumbledore knew what he was doing, giving him time to think, but if he's there too long, he'll either become desensitised, or the guilt will drive him mad."

"Speaking from experience, Black?" Severus drawled.

"I did spent some time in Azkaban," he said, rather coolly. Silence fell between the adults again, broken only by the chink of Lupin's teaspoon on the glass of the sugarpot.

"This job?" Severus asked, finally, and if Draco hadn't known better, he'd have thought it was some sort of odd apology. Severus never apologised though.

"I have a friend that works in Knockturn Alley," Black said. "I was going to talk to her when we go to get Harry's school things."

Potter set a glass of juice down in front of Draco, and then flopped into the seat beside Weasley.

"And you're asking me?" Severus said.

"I'd rather not make these sorts of decision alone."

"Gryffindors," Severus muttered, sounding… well, not disgusted, but near to it. Weasley sniggered, as did Potter. Black's expression twisted, in an obvious attempt not to laugh, and even Lupin let out a rattly chuckle. "What?" Severus snapped, and then his eyes landed on Draco, wedged between Potter and Weasley.

"What's wrong with Gryffindors, sir?" Draco asked, taking great care to keep his expression blank.

* * *

><p>"She told you, then?" Andy asked, looking at Remus, who was standing on the Tonkses doorstep, shielding his face from the sun with one hand. Her expression was odd; proud, and she had every reason to be with Dora's impending training, relieved, because, despite being less prejudiced than her family, dating a werewolf wasn't exactly what Andy would want for her only daughter, and wary, as if she expected Remus to start shouting that Dora couldn't go.<p>

"She did," Remus agreed. "Is she here?"

"Nymphadora!" Andy called over her shoulder, instead of answering. Remus heard Dora growl from her bedroom, and then stomping footsteps. Her face brightened when she saw him standing there, though, and Remus felt a smile tug at his mouth.

"Oh, excellent," she said. "I was about to head over to Grimmauld… I didn't think you'd be up and about today. How are you feeling?" Dora grabbed his hand and towed him toward her room.

"I've been better," Remus said tiredly, looking around. Only half of her wardrobe was strewn on the floor; the rest was sticking out of her trunk, which was open on the desk.

"Well, hopefully you're doing better by Monday," she said. "It was a complete pain, but I've organised a portkey for us, so you can help me move some of my stuff into the new place, and then I thought we could have a bit of a wander around, get to know the area and all- Are you okay?" she asked.

"I just said I've been better," Remus reminded her, arching an eyebrow.

"That's not what I mean," she huffed. Canis, Dora's rather nasty cat, wandered out from under her bed, bit Remus on the ankle, and then tore out of the room. "Mum said I have to take him with me," Dora said gloomily.

"What do you mean?" Remus said, bringing her attention back to whatever she'd been trying to say before.

"I mean… and I'm not complaining!" she added hastily. "But- I thought you'd have wanted to talk about this more. I thought you'd- I dunno, want to sort out logistics of visiting, and what not-"

"There's nothing to discuss," Remus said, shrugging.

"Nothing at all?" she asked, her hair turning orange. Remus didn't know if it was confusion, or building anger, or something else. "You're completely happy with the fact that I'm moving to France, and that we won't just be able to Apparate or Floo to see each other?"

"I thought you wanted to go?" he said, puzzled.

"I do!" she cried. "I just- I can't believe that you haven't said one thing against it! Even I've had second thoughts!"

"Dora," Remus said gently, taking her hands. "Did you really think I would be anything but supportive? If this is something you'd like to do, then I won't hold you back. It was always going to be like this."

"I was always going to go to France to study under the world's best Aurors?" she asked flatly.

"No," Remus said, chuckling. "Not that exactly. But you were always going to move onto bigger and better things. You're young and extremely talented, and I know I'm not the only one who thinks that."

"That's sweet," Dora said, smiling at him, while her hair turned pale pink with embarrassment. Remus could feel his hands growing clammy in hers.

"And it's for exactly that reason, that I think this is it," Remus said. Her hands twitched, and she looked up at him, frowning.

"It?" she asked, in a very calm voice. Her hair hadn't changed colour at all, but Remus thought that was due to a conscious effort on her part.

"Us, Dora," he sighed. "I'll only be holding you back… I can't afford to buy an international portkey every other week, and once Hogwarts starts again, I won't have time, and if you're coming back here at every opportunity, then you won't be properly focused on-"

"On my studies," she said coolly. "Right." Her hair still hadn't changed colour, and it was starting to unnerve Remus. "Fine. You can go then." Her voice caught, ever so slightly. "I need to pack." Remus stared at her. He was pleased that she wasn't arguing the point, but it was so _unlike_ her not to. "Are you expecting me to ask you to change your mind?" she asked.

"It wouldn't have been unexpected," he admitted. "But I'm glad you understand-"

"Oh, I understand," she said, and her voice shook, and just like that, her hair shaped itself into angry red spikes. "I understand, that for all you say that I'm talented, _nothing_ I say or do, will ever be enough to convince you that you're actually worth something." She wasn't shouting, but she was shaking. Her eyes were very dark, and her lips redder than usual. Remus half-expected her to grow claws. "Except now, it's not just you that you don't care about, it's me-"

"I care about you-" Remus said, stricken that she could think that.

"If you did," she said, "then you'd either have begged me to turn the position down, or you'd be telling me that we can make this work. Instead you told me goodbye. I want this- I want- us. But if you're not prepared treat it like it matters, and to fight to keep it, then why the _hell_ should I?"

"Dora," Remus said, feeling his heart clench.

"Go, Remus," she said, and her voice was so flat and cold, that Remus wouldn't have believed it was her voice if he hadn't seen her speaking. "I'm sick of forcing you to stick around when you'd clearly rather be elsewhere."

Remus closed his eyes briefly, and left.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi again!<br>Firstly, I'd like to say thank you to everyone; the first chapter has had a really positive response so far, and I'm excited about this story... I have some fun things planned!**

**Secondly, I'd like to say I'm really, really sorry to say that there will be a bit of a wait between this chapter and the next one, because I'm going away. Once we hit mid-January, updates will be back to their regular, once a week timing, but until then, they'll be a bit more spaced out, so I'm sorry for that!**

**Sorry to do this to you all, so soon after coming back from a writing break! The next update should be up by Christmas, so please bear with me!**

**MarauderLover7. :)**


	3. A Chance Meeting

Snape came to collect Draco early the next morning, and Ron Flooed home shortly after they'd left. Remus couldn't say he was sad to see them go; much as he liked Harry's friends, the recent full moon and his break up with Dora had left him wanting to keep to himself, and think things through, both of which were far easier said than done when there were three boisterous Gryffindors upstairs.

For the first time in a while, it was only Remus, Sirius and Harry that sat down to lunch; usually, one of them was absent, or Matt, or Dora or Marlene were with them, or one of Harry's friends. And, for the first time in a while, conversation didn't flow as freely as it usually did.

Remus was quiet, picking his bread to pieces, and Sirius was sipping at his soup, not speaking either; he knew what had happened the day before and had tried to talk about it, but Remus had asked him to drop it, and, reluctantly, Sirius had.

"What day does Tonks leave?" Harry asked, in that utterly oblivious, yet uncannily spot-on way that he had. Sirius glanced at his godson, and Remus could smell his surprise and amusement. "Padfoot said something about it a few days ago, but I forgot to ask."

"Monday," Remus said.

"Oh," Harry said. "Are you going on the same day?"

"Am- going?" Remus asked.

"To France," Harry said, as if he was daft. Sirius was watching the entire exchange with glinting eyes, and if Remus couldn't smell him and Harry, he'd have thought that this was a planned ambush.

"No," Remus said. "I go back to Hogwarts on Thursday, though, to help Dumbledore and the other teachers get ready for the start of term." Harry glanced at Sirius, looking puzzled, then back to Remus.

"I don't- Get ready? How are you supposed to teach from France?" Sirius – the useless git – didn't say anything to help Remus, just looked at him, as if he too was interested in hearing the answer.

"I'm not going to France, Harry," Remus said.

"But Tonks-"

"Dora and I have decided to end things," Remus said. What had been a thick slice of bread, now resembled nothing so much as a heap of crumbs. Remus glanced around the table for something else to play with, but nothing presented itself to him. He clasped his hands instead.

"End things?" Harry asked. "Like- you mean-?"

"We won't be seeing much of each other, any more," Remus said.

"So you don't love her anymore?" Harry asked, and Remus saw his nostrils flare; he was reading Remus' scent.

"Of course I do," Remus said.

"But- then why wouldn't you keep seeing her?" Harry asked, cocking his head. Remus looked to Sirius for help, but Sirius had his eyes fixed on Harry, and was looking decidedly proud. Triumphant, even.

"It's complicated, Harry," Remus said tiredly. "You're- when you're a bit older-"

Harry scowled, but let the subject drop. He stirred his soup, and then excused himself a few minutes later. Sirius watched him go, and then pushed his own chair back. Remus waited for an ultimatum, but it never came.

Instead, all Sirius said was, "All of this is between you and Dora, and I can't force you to talk about it, or listen to me. But for the record, I think that Harry's got the measure of things a lot better than you do at the moment."

* * *

><p>"How are you holding up?" Dora jumped and spun around, and Sirius grinned at her. "Constant vigilance," he said lightly, stepping into the cubicle. Prewett wasn't at her desk, so Dora had used it to support the box that held all of her books and potions.<p>

"I didn't hear you," she replied, flashing him a smile. She opened a case file, flicked through it, frowned, and then put it onto Prewett's chair. "And I- I've been better, but I'm managing." Sirius couldn't tell if that was true or not; Dora was a metamorphmagus, and so perfectly capable of making him see only what she wanted him to, while he was looking at her. She even had some control over her scent. "How- How is he?"

"He's managing too," Sirius said. He picked up the sneakoscope Remus had bought Dora a few Christmases ago, and bounced it in his palm. Dora grabbed it and stuffed it into the box. "Did you- Would you like me to talk to him-"

"Thanks," she said firmly, "for the offer, but no. I think I made my own feelings pretty clear, and if he wants to try to do something about what I've said, I'd rather he did it on his own, because he wants to, not because you told him to." Sirius could only nod. "Thank you," Dora said, and for a moment, her scent wavered. Then, it was calm again, and she glanced at him, then at the book in her hand, which she lobbed into the box on Prewett's desk.

* * *

><p>"Ow! Bad Dobby!" Draco, who was sitting in the library, while Dobby dusted, looked up. Dobby was, as far as Draco could tell, doing nothing more than standing there. The dusting had stopped, though; perhaps that was it. Dobby grabbed a heavy book off the shelf – Political Prowess And Ways To Achieve It – and brought it down on his bald head.<p>

"Dobby!" Draco said at once. "Drop it!" The book thudded as it landed on the carpet, and Dobby gave Draco a fearful look. "Now pick it up, and put it away." Dobby trembled. "Are you all right?" Draco asked, as Dobby returned the book to its rightful place.

"Master Draco mustn't trouble himself," Dobby squeaked, hopping down from the stool he'd been perched on. "Dobby is- Dobby will be bringing Master Draco some-"

"No," Draco said, lowering his own book. "Stay here." Dobby hunched over, and gave the door a nervous glance. "What were you trying to do before?"

"Draco is- is friends with Harry Potter," Dobby whispered, "Dobby knows Dobby has no right to- that Dobby mustn't- But Dobby _has _to, Master Draco." Dobby's green eyes filled with tears, and Draco pulled a silken handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it to him. Dobby let out a wail. "Kind Master," he said. "Such a kind Master, Master is being too good to Dobby! Poor Master! Poor Harry Potter!"

"What?"

"Harry Potter is in danger," Dobby whispered, wiping his nose on the handkerchief. "And Master Draco too!"

"From what?" Draco asked anxiously.

"From- from-" Dobby made a strangled noise and ran for the shelves again, this time managing to hit himself with a cookbook once before Draco ordered him to stop. "Dobby mustn't- Dobby is a bad elf! Bad Dobby!"

"Is it the Dark Lord?" Dobby quivered. "How do you know, anyway?" Dobby's eyes widened. "Dobby, I order you to tell me!"

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts," Dobby whispered. "And Master Draco must be careful!"

"Dobby-"

But Dobby had vanished, and Draco couldn't find him, nor did Dobby come when Draco called him. Draco returned to his reading in a bad mood, resigned to having to wait until Kreacher next visited to get the news to Potter.

* * *

><p>"Is Moony upset with me?" Harry asked Padfoot, as they walked through the Three Broomsticks, toward Diagon Alley.<p>

"No," Padfoot said firmly. "He's just got a lot to think about at the moment."

"Are he and Tonks really-"

"For the moment, yes," Padfoot sighed. "Hopefully, though, Moony can pull his head out of his- Arthur!" Padfoot lifted a hand in greeting, and Mr Weasley, who'd just tumbled out of the Floo in front of them, beamed and made his way over.

They were soon joined by the rest of the Weasley family; Mrs Weasley bustled over, with Ginny hanging off her arm. Ginny tried to detach herself, to come and say hello, but Mrs Weasley patted her hand and turned around to scold Ron – who it seemed had ripped his jeans on the way – so Ginny grimaced at Harry instead.

Fred and George appeared after Ron, took one look at Ginny and their mother, and then George seized Fred's hand, and held him in place, while Fred tried loudly, and dramatically to get to Harry. Padfoot chuckled at them, but didn't turn away from his conversation with Arthur.

"-where you are!" Fred cried, reaching out. "We'll come to you, Harrykins!"

"Oh, but look," George said. "Percy's just got here. _Hello_, Percy!" Percy brushed soot off his robes, and frowned at the pair of them.

"George," Percy said.

"I'm not George," George said. "I'm Fred."

"You're George," Percy said, in a long-suffering voice, and then spotted Harry and Padfoot and came to greet them. Fred and George imitated his pompous voice behind his back, and so Harry had a hard time greeting him with a straight face. Padfoot, though, to Fred and George's delight, returned Percy's hello in a grave voice, and then winked at them when Percy had turned away.

Eventually, Mrs Weasley got them all moving, and soon, they were in Diagon Alley, wandering among the shops. Gringotts was their first stop, but they had to separate for a bit because there wasn't room for them all in a single cart.

They regrouped again, on the steps outside, and were joined – quite by chance – by Hermione and her family. Harry knew that she'd been intending come today, but had assumed the Grangers would have wanted to come early, and miss the crowds. A second glance revealed they'd done just that; Hermione and her parents were already carrying bags full of robes and books and potion ingredients.

Hermione was excited to see them all, but as soon as Mr Weasley had claimed her parents' attention, she asked Harry and Ron about Draco, and how he was going. So, while they shopped, Harry and Ron told her the story about their almost-adventure to fetch him, before he'd shown up, and Hermione's reaction was exactly as Harry would have predicted it to be.

"You what?!" she asked, mouth falling open.

"It was a good idea," Ron said, a little sheepishly. Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Well, maybe not _good_, but it was the best thing we could come up with- What's going on there?"

Ahead of them, Mrs Weasley stopped and pressed a hand to her heart, and Ginny turned around and made a face at Fred and George.

"Fancy that," Mrs Weasley said, turning around to face them all. She sounded rather breathless, and her cheeks were pink. "Gilderoy Lockhart has a signing today-" The Weasley children – even Percy – groaned, and Mr Weasley grimaced at Padfoot, who was mouthing Lockhart's name, looking thoughtful.

"Who's Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry asked, and Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Hermione said, as if Harry should already know, "is-"

But Harry quickly found out, before she could say any more; as their group neared the bookshop, a hand reached out and seized Harry's arm. All he saw was a flash of lilac fabric, a glint of white teeth, and got a scent of a rather overpowering, vaguely floral cologne, before he was being pulled toward the shop. He reached for his wand, panicking, but before he could do even that, Padfoot was there, prising the other man off him.

"I'll thank you not to manhandle my godson," he said coldly, and glared at the photographer who'd descended on them.

"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," the man who'd grabbed Harry said, with a charming smile. The photographer lingered a few steps away, camera poised. Harry moved behind Padfoot. "I'm Gilderoy Lockhart-"

"And?" Padfoot asked. Ron cheered, and was quickly told off by Mrs Weasley. Lockhart's face had turned a funny pink colour. "Even if you were the Minister you wouldn't have the right to go about seizing people's children."

"But he's not your child, is he?" Lockhart said, beaming. "He's Harry Potter! You, my dear sir, can't hope to claim him. He belongs to us all; fame's funny that way." And with that, Lockhart seized Harry again and this time, the camera clicked, and several people applauded. Harry blinked, blinded by the flash, but could make out Padfoot talking the twins. "Come to buy my books, haven't you, Harry? Well, I'm flatt- Oh!"

The strangest expression crawled over Lockhart's face, and he rubbed at the front of his robes. Then, he sent an angry look at Padfoot, who was steering Harry back to the safety of their group. Appearing puzzled, Lockhart glanced to Harry's left, and Harry followed his gaze to see Fred and George grinning at each other, while they tucked their wands away.

"Did they just-" Harry asked Padfoot, who grinned and replied in a low voice.

"_I'm _an Auror," Padfoot said. "_I_ can't very well go around hexing gits, much as I'd like to." Harry grinned. "If I say a spell out loud, though, and someone else happens to cast it… well, I'm hardly responsible, am I?" Ron and Hermione were trying to get to Harry, but Mrs Weasley seemed to be talking to them both about Lockhart, who Harry'd decided, he didn't like much at all.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked, as they slipped past Lockhart and into Flourish and Blotts. She'd finally detached herself from her mother and was watching him closely. "You look-"

"I'm all right," he said. "Blinded by the flash from that stupid camera, but-"

"Really, your eyesight's no great loss," a familiar voice drawled. A wry smile crept onto Harry's face. "Potter. She-Weasel."

"Malfoy," Ginny said, glancing at Harry. When she saw he'd smiled at Draco, she offered him a smile as well.

"What was _that_?" Hydrus, Harry didn't have a smile for. He strutted up behind Draco, and sneered at them both. "You just can't help yourself, can you, Potter? Every day you don't make the front page is a failure for you, isn't it?"

"Hydrus-" Draco began, looking annoyed, but Ginny beat him to it.

"He didn't ask for that," she snapped. Hydrus glanced at Ginny, who held her ground, scowling.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, have you, Potter?" he asked snidely. Harry smelled embarrassment on Ginny, as well as anger, and wasn't sure what to make of it.

"It's more than you'll ever get," Ron said, as he and Hermione came to join them, "if you don't stop being such a git." Draco looked delighted when Hydrus' face turned a nasty, blotchy pink colour.

"Now, now." Harry's heart sank as Mr Malfoy strode up behind his sons. "Just because you like mudbloods, doesn't mean you need to act like them." Mr Malfoy's eyes flicked to Hermione, whose face had turned white. Ginny and Ron were turning steadily red.

"Father!" Draco said, looking angry, but Hydrus put a hand on his arm, and shook his head.

"The same goes for you, Potter," Lucius said. "You could have had a far better life than the one you ended up with." This time, his eyes flicked to Padfoot, who was at the counter with Mr Weasley, buying school books. Harry's hands clenched into fists. "A pity things turned out the way they did."

"Pity's not the word I'd use," Harry replied. Lucius' lip curled.

"Malfoy." Then, Mr Weasley was there, his arms laden with Ron and Ginny's school books. Ginny took some from him and put them into her cauldron, where they'd be easier to carry, and Ron tucked one into the bag with his new robes. "Shall we go and wait outside?" Mr Weasley asked them, ignoring the Malfoys.

"Yes," Hermione started, but was cut off.

"Not used to a roof over your head, Weasley?" Mr Malfoy asked. Mr Weasley's ears turned red, the same way Ron's did when he was angry. And Ron was angry too; his knuckles were white, and next to him, Ginny's eyes were slits. "Can't say I'm surprised. You always were an embarrassment to wizard-kind."

"Fath-"

"Draco, I said be quiet!" Mr Malfoy snapped. Mr Weasley gave Draco a sad look. "What?" Mr Malfoy asked coolly. "Do you feel sorry for my son?"

"Yes, actually," Mr Weasley said. "It's a sad day when a boy's the one reminding an adult how to behave in public." Draco flushed, and Mr Weasley gave him another sad, but kind smile.

"And sadder still when a man with so many children has so little clue about parenting that he thinks it's a child's place to do the teaching," Mr Malfoy replied, after a long pause. He picked up one of Ginny's school books and turned it over with a look of disgust. "Second hand. Is that really the best you can do, Weasley-"

"-in tonight. Thank you. Yes, bye." Padfoot stepped up behind them, flanked – funnily enough – by the Weasley twins. He had Harry's books balanced in one arm, and his wand in that same hand. His other hand was wrapped around his Sidekick, which he snapped shut. Mr Malfoy's eyes lingered on it. "Is there a problem here?"

"None at all," Mr Malfoy said smoothly. He dropped Ginny's book back into her cauldron and made a show of wiping his hand on his robes. Then, he put the other hand on Hydrus' shoulder, and led him to where Mrs Malfoy was looking at books.

"I need to talk to you," Draco said in a low voice. "Dobby-"

"Draco!" It was not Mr Malfoy calling for him, but Mrs Malfoy.

"Send Kreacher!" Draco whispered, his shoulders slumping. He looked at Ron, Ginny and Mr Weasley. "I'm- sorry about my-"

"You're not responsible for them," Mr Weasley said kindly. Mrs Malfoy was approaching now, and Draco glanced at her, nervous.

"See you at school," Draco said miserably, and went to join his mother before she could join them.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi everyone!<strong>

**Sorry this update is a bit late, and a bit short; I was busier than I'd expected! :/**

**Hopefully you've all had lovely Christmases!**

**The next update will be up on the 10th of January (another long wait, I'm sorry!) but after that, we'll be back to weekly updates!**

**Thank you again for your patience!**

**MarauderLover7.**


	4. Old And New

"What's this?" Percy asked, rummaging through Ginny's cauldron of school supplies. Ginny, who'd been lying on her bed and doing her best to ignore him, glanced over.

"What's what?" she asked, scowling at him. Percy had lost one of the books he bought at Diagon Alley, and decided it must have been mixed up with hers. Ginny knew for a fact that Fred and George had it, and were changing the title from _N.E.W.T.s For Newcomers_ to _N.E.W.T.s For Nitwits_, but Percy wasn't allowed to know that she knew that, so she was keeping her mouth shut.

"A diary?" Percy said. Ginny glanced over her shoulder at him and saw he was frowning. "Did Father really buy you a diary?"

"Apparently," Ginny said, "if it's in my cauldron." He had her attention now, though; she hadn't asked for a diary, nor had Dad said anything about it, and she thought she would have remembered if a diary was on the booklist. It was plain looking; small, and bound in black leather, and looked as if someone had owned it beforehand, but that wasn't surprising. Ginny thought she liked it. And, as she reached that conclusion, Percy made an odd noise and waved it at her.

"Can I have this?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. "No, it's mine."

"Ginny, do you know who this used to belong to?" Percy asked seriously. His eyes were awed behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

"No," she said, and then sighed, because Percy was obviously dying to reveal the diary's previous owner. "Who?" she asked.

"Tom Riddle," Percy said, with the same reverence that Ron would save for a Chudley Cannons player.

"Who?" she said again.

"He was a Prefect, Ginny," Percy said, clutching the diary to his chest. "Years and years ago, but still. He won an award; I've seen his trophy!" His eyes narrowed. "This was obviously meant to be mine. Father must have given it to you by accident. I wonder what he's written in it." And just like that, Percy's eyes were bright again.

"It's mine," Ginny said slowly, watching her brother's face.

"I just said," Percy said, rather crossly, "that there's obviously been a mistake-"

"You've already got a diary, anyway."

"But-"

Ginny stood up and marched over to Percy. She plucked the diary out of his hands; for all that Percy was older than her, and bigger, he knew if he tried to fight her over it (which Percy was too proper to even try) that it wouldn't end well. If she didn't win outright, then she'd have Fred and George help her steal it back later.

"Now," she said, tossing the diary down onto her cluttered desk, "out."

"But-" Percy obviously wanted to keep looking for his other book, the one about N.E.W.T.s, but Ginny had had enough of him for the afternoon.

"Mu-" Ginny started. Percy baulked and scurried out, but not without one last look at the diary.

Odd, Ginny thought, closing her door behind him. She and Percy usually got on well, or at least, as well as Percy got on with anyone.

She went back to the list she'd been making - at Mum's insistence - of things to wash and pack ready for Hogwarts next week, but only managed to write another two things before her gaze flicked to the diary. Warily - for no good reason - she picked it up. It was warm, which she hadn't noticed before, but she shook her head and put that down to Percy holding it before. A flick through its pages told her it was empty, which she thought was odd; surely Riddle ought to have left a tally of house points, or a list of homework to do, or his girlfriend's name, or something.

_Still_, she thought_, I won't complain_. Nothing of Riddle's in there meant that there was more room for her to write... though Ginny wasn't entirely sure what to write. She'd never had a diary before.

Ginny dipped her quill in ink, and hovered over the first page. Dear diary seemed like a stupid, girly way to start, and Fred and George would tease her if they ever found out.

_Hello_, she wrote instead, and then sucked on the end of her quill while she tried to work out what to write next. Next thing she knew, though, her ink had dried and vanished into the page. Ginny's eye narrowed, and she tried again with her Hello. Before she could finish writing that, however, another hello had appeared on the page, in handwriting that wasn't Ginny's.

Out of habit, she glanced at her door, then at her window, half expecting to see Fred and or George watching her and laughing. She couldn't see them, though, or hear them stifling laughter, and she turned back to the diary, frowning and the page which was blank once more.

Then, as if written by an invisible hand, more words appeared: _Who are you?_

Ginny's eyebrows shot up, and she scowled at the words, which were fading into the page again.

_Who are_ you_?_ she wrote back, and underlined it with a huff. It seemed like a stupid thing to ask a diary, but then, she'd never imagined herself asking a diary anything, so she nodded to herself, and waited.

_I asked you first_, came the reply.

_I don't care,_ Ginny wrote back. The next reply didn't come as swiftly. Ginny waited, half wanting a response, half hoping that this was all a strange dream.

_My name is Tom Riddle._

_The Prefect?_

_Ah,_ Tom Riddle's handwriting said. _You must be a Hogwarts student, then?_

_No_, Ginny wrote.

The page remained blank well after her answer had sunk into it. Ginny guessed the diary - or Tom Riddle - was trying to work out how she knew him.

_My brother is a student, though,_ Ginny scrawled, relenting. _He knew your name._

_You've still not told me yours._

_Ginny Weasley,_ she wrote, somewhat reluctantly.

_It's a pleasure to meet you_, came the swift reply. Ginny found herself reassured by that. Not everyone was like Mr Malfoy and sneered at the name Weasley. _I don't think I've ever met a female Weasley before._

_I'm the first one,_ she replied. _For a long time, anyway. It was in the paper. There was another long pause._

_May I ask, Ginny, what year it is?_

_1992._

_Ah. T_here was a pause, and Ginny didn't know what to say. _So long..._

_What do you mean?_ Ginny couldn't help but ask.

_I'm afraid I have to go now, Ginny,_ Tom Riddle's diary said at last. _Will you talk to me sometimes, though? Perhaps again in a day or two?_

Ginny didn't answer, but she didn't think the diary needed her to. It didn't seem to be dangerous, and it had been polite enough. Besides, she wanted to know how Tom Riddle had made his diary talk, and what it needed time to think about. Did diaries even know how to think?

* * *

><p>"If it's too hard, Sirius, I-"<p>

"I'm all right," he said, and he was; he spent a moment reliving the memory of Lucius Malfoy's face when he'd seen Sirius approaching in the bookshop, and then Sirius' mental Patronus was glowing and he couldn't feel the cold anymore. Or the Dementors' cold, anyway; it was still windy, and water still crashed against the rocks and splattered their faces and robes.

Marlene didn't look to be coping quite as well; despite the fact that they were only on the shore of Azkaban, stepping off the boat, she was pale, and her eyes dim.

Dawlish, who was behind Marlene, also had a haunted look about him, as did Dale, while Brown looked grim, but composed.

Since Fudge had ordered the Aurors to investigate all Ministry staff and associates, Azkaban had been under the guard of Dementors, and cleared Aurors; the usual Azkaban guards had been removed from their positions until it could be proven they had no questionable connections, and no particular association with dark magic.

Sirius looked up at the prison with critical eyes, tossed another happy memory to his patronus Padfoot, and led the way up the rocky path. He heard Brown and Dale muttering behind him, and could smell their doubt; he thought they were expecting him to start sobbing, or run back to the boat at any moment. With a wry smile, Sirius brushed his fingers against the back of Marlene's hand, and kept walking.

"Afternoon," Blackburn called out to them when they reached him and Wellington, who were stationed under the archway that was the entrance to Azkaban.

"Afternoon," Brown said back. Wellington nodded to Sirius, and smiled at Marlene. "How does this all work?"

"First shift for all of you?" Blackburn's eyes flicked over their faces and then he nodded and waved a hand at the damp steps behind him. "Finch, Yaxley and Prewett are outside the guardroom, waiting. Pair off once you're there, and split off into the blocks of the prison, and one pair in the main building to oversee visitors. You remember your way around from training?" Marlene, Dale and Brown all nodded. "John, you've been here enough times to know your way around, and-" Blackburn seemed to notice Sirius for the first time. "-Black."

"I remember bits," Sirius offered. And he did; his mind, where his patronus prowled, glowing, looked like the prison they were walking in now.

Blackburn didn't seem to want to make a fuss - either about Sirius being too familiar, or doubting his ability to find his way around - so he nodded.

"You're here to make sure the prisoners aren't causing any trouble. If they are, settle it youselves, or call for Dementors." Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Marlene glance at him, but he ignored her. "We've got Proudfoot and Ackerly on meals and medications, so expect to see one or both of them between five and eight. Next shift starts at eleven, and then we're free to go home." Blackburn looked delighted by that prospect.

About half an hour later, Sirius and Marlene were wandering up a dim stone corridor, in one of the higher security parts of the prison. Sirius - for all that everyone gave him skeptical looks when he mentioned it - was very capable when it came to handling Dementors, and he'd handle this part of the prison better than, say, Dale; she, along with Brown, had jumped upon the opportunity to stay in the visiting and questioning building.

"Sirius, look," Marlene said, catching his sleeve. Sirius did look. The cell was empty, which wasn't unusual - he'd noticed only one in about three cells were occupied - but what made it stand out was its colour; every brick, every bar, every bolt, and even the toilet within the cell were gleaming silver in the dim light.

"Greyback's cell," Sirius murmured.

"And they say Dung did this?" Marlene asked, doubt clear in her voice.

"So they say." Sirius wasn't sure what he thought; on the one hand, Dung was too self-interested to go to Azkaban for anyone else... on the other hand, he wasn't sure Dung had the talent or the desire to go after Greyback. And there was the fact that Dora always frowned when the topic arose, but remained tight-lipped whenever Sirius or Remus tried to talk about it.

Sirius shook his head and then kept walking. Marlene's foosteps echoed behind him for a moment, until they were level again.

She was sticking closer to him than Sirius thought she would have, had they been patrolling a normal prison, but she was still the one to ask, "Are you all right?"

"Will you believe me if I say yes?" he asked, with what he thought must have been an odd smile.

"No," she replied, and her mouth twitched. Sirius would have kissed her, or taken her hand or something, but there were eyes watching them from cells further up the corridor.

"And how about you?" he asked.

"I've- I can think of things I'd rather be doing," she said, after a pause, and then offered him a weak smile. "But really, Sirius, it can't be easy for-" Sirius only just heard her, and when she realised he wasn't paying attention, she cut off. Then, her hand was - very lightly - on his arm, and she was looking past him into the cell they'd arrived at.

It was just as he remembered, save for the lock, which had probably been replaced after his escape.

Small - and Sirius remembered he'd once known the exact number of paces it was from one wall to the other - with flakes of rust on the bars, and what seemed to be the same tattered blanket he'd had when he was its occupant. And the walls were as he'd left them too; covered with small, etched tally marks. He heard Marlene swallow beside him.

Sirius was surprised how little he felt. Not sad, not angry, not even numb. It was like looking at something from a dream. A dream he'd used to protect himself, from the Dementor's Draught, and from the Dementors themselves, that awful night before Sirius' trial.

"This was mine," Sirius said, gesturing to it. He didn't know what else there was to say, or if he should have spoken at all. Marlene's eyes were tracing the marks on the walls, and then something let out a squeak from behind them. Sirius spun around, lifting his wand. There, huddled under a blanket, in the cell opposite the one that had once been Sirius', was Peter, or at least, what was left of him.

His collarbone protruded sharply above his grey, prison shirt, and his eyes - still that same, watery blue - sat above sunken cheeks. His fingers were more claw-like than ever, with his spindly fingers, and long, ragged nails. His hair was greasy and hung around his shoulders in colourless lumps. Sirius was sure his prison attire had fit when he arrived, but now, his clothes seemed to have swallowed him. There was nothing left of Peter that resembled the chubby, loyal boy he'd been in fifth year.

The only thing about him that didn't look like it could be blown away by a strong wind, was his Dark Mark, which rested dark and clear on his skinny forearm. As Sirius watched, Peter scratched at it, whimpered, and then tried to cover it with his sleeve.

"Sirius," Marlene said, and her hand was in his and she was tugging gently, but Sirius shook her off and took a step forward.

Peter seemed to see them for the first time, and started to rock.

"You're not real," Peter whispered, shaking his head, and staring at the floor, then at Sirius again. "You're not real." He rubbed at his eyes, blinked, and, when Sirius didn't move, burst into noisy tears. Sirius couldn't feel anything but shock, and, amazingly, pity. He should hate the man, or at least be disgusted - next to him, Marlene had curled her lip, and her hand was hovering near her pocket, where she kept her wand - but he just couldn't. This was the man that was the reason Lily and James were dead, the man who had framed Sirius and would have killed Remus and Harry that Halloween, if things had gone to plan. Sirius had wanted him dead. Yet Sirius looked at him in his tiny cell, watching him pull at his hair, and shiver under the thin blanket and thought it was punishment enough; everything Peter had done was to make sure he survived, and he had, but while he was alive, he wasn't living. "You aren't!" Peter cried. "You-"

"Oh, shut up, Wormtail!" a petulant voice called, from further down the row.

* * *

><p>"So Tonks moves to France today, right?" Harry asked. Next to him, was the beginning of a letter to Draco.<p>

"Right," Remus said tersely, sipping his tea. Sirius was off at Azkaban, doing Auror things, and so there was no one to distract Harry. An idea occurred to Remus. "Did you want to invite Ron or Hermione around?"

"No," Harry said, pouring milk into his cereal. "Ron's gone to work with Mr Weasley today, and Hermione's parents like to know at least a day in advance."

"What did you want to do today, then?" Remus asked.

"Dunno," Harry said. Kreacher set a plate of eggs down in front of Remus, and, deeming them both provided for, announced he was off to do some shopping. Harry called a cheery goodbye after him, and then turned to Remus. "Are you still going to Hogwarts on Thursday?"

"I am," Remus said, sprinkling salt over his breakfast. Harry frowned, and Remus found himself wishing he could swap mornings with Sirius, even if it meant time in Azkaban.

"And you and Tonks still aren't talking?" Harry continued.

"Harry," Remus sighed, "can we not talk about this, please?"

"Why?" Harry asked. He sniffed the air for a moment. "You don't smell upset."

"I'm not upset," Remus conceded. "I just- would rather not talk about her."

"Don't you miss her, though?" Harry asked. Remus stabbed his eggs, not prepared to admit how much. "I do," Harry continued.

"Why don't you date her then," Remus grumbled. "Obviously she doesn't mind age gaps."

"Ew," Harry said, wrinkling his nose. That drew a reluctant chuckle out of Remus.

"That was a joke," he added. "If you tried, I'd drag you outside on a full moon and eat you." Harry grinned.

"What if someone else tried to date her?" Harry asked. Remus' stomach curled unpleasantly. "They could, you know, if you're not around." Remus sat very still, and when he thought he was calm enough to breathe again, and move, he saw that he'd bent his fork. He hoped Harry hadn't noticed. "Would you eat them too?"

"No," Remus managed to say. Harry's smile widened in a way that reminded Remus of Sirius.

"Liar."

"I'm _not_ lying."

"Are too," Harry said, and Remus saw his nostrils flare. Remus gave him his best withering look, one that he'd used on James and Sirius when he'd had to be Remus-the-Prefect, but it didn't work any better on Harry than it had on them. Remus wondered why he'd thought it would.

Not for the first time, Remus cursed Sirius for even telling Harry that Dora was leaving; Harry, being Harry, might not have even noticed, otherwise, and Remus wouldn't be forced to endure this sort of inquisition at nine on a Monday morning.

Remus was aware of Harry's eyes watching him as he stabbed his eggs again.

_You picked this,_ he told himself. _You chose this, and now you have to live with it._ Remus swallowed and pushed his eggs away, suddenly feeling far less hungry than he had before.

* * *

><p><em>You chose this,<em> Tonks told herself, as she looked around at her empty flat. The only things in it were her trunk and rucksack - which contained just about everything she owned - her broomstick, the clothespeg that had been her portkey, and her cat, who'd just been released from his wicker carry-basket by Dad.

"It's nice," Dad said, dodging Canis' swipe. Canis went straight to the windowsill and glared down at the people on the street outside. "Better once you get some furniture, but still." He glanced over at her, and she smiled weakly at him, grateful that he'd taken the day off so that he could come with her, since Remus wouldn't. "Dora," Dad said, lifting a strand of her hair, which had gone a deep blue-purple. He pulled her into a hug, and rubbed her back, and then stepped away and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a photo of her, Mum and Dad, taken at the Dad's work's Christmas party, last year. He set it on the mantel, and Tonks swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Thanks, Dad," she said. He smiled at her, and looked around.

"Did you need help settling in, or-"

"I'll be all right," she said.

"We're only an owl away," he said, hugging her again. "And once you're all settled, we'll talk about Christmas, and see if you want to come home, or if you want us here."

"I'll write," she promised.

"You'd better," Dad said, chuckling. "Otherwise you'll have your mother on your doorstep." Tonks' shudder wasn't just theatrical. "Good luck on your first day, not that you'll need it." He winked at her, and Tonks found herself smiling. "Love you, Dora."

"Love you too, Dad." Then he was slipping out the door of her flat, careful not to let Canis, who was lingering, escape. Tonks clicked her fingers at him, but he hissed at her and went to hide in the bathroom. "Stupid thing," she muttered, and then set to work; she'd brought all sorts of things to transfigure into furniture, and the sooner she finished, the sooner she could have a shower and go to bed.


	5. The Cup And The Cafe

"Greentooth's a little monster, like always," Matt said, following Remus into his cottage, "but Silverear… I think Hogwarts is changing him."

That was enough to pull Remus' attention away from his mantra of _You chose this, now get on with things_.

"How so?" he asked.

"He's… quieter. Spends an awful lot of time doing his holiday homework in his room, while Greentooth sits on Greyback's throne and shows everyone how she can make a teacup dance." He rolled his eyes. "Debbie's eyes just about fall out every time Greentooth lifts her wan-"

"How is Debbie?" Remus asked. He propped his briefcase up against the couch, and then went to open the kitchen window. He hadn't been past his cottage in months, and the whole place smelled musty.

"Very much at home," Matt said, shrugging. He flicked his wand at the dusty armchair and then flopped down into it. "She talks to me, sometimes. Still thinks I'm in your pocket, but that's her problem, not mine." Remus pursed his lips, but he'd long ago stopped caring what Debbie thought of him.

"How long are you home for?"

"Probably just a week or two," Matt said, grimacing. "Once Greentooth goes back to school, I'll try to get rid of some of the stupider ideas she's managed to put into the others' heads."

"Are you still working at the pub?" Remus asked.

"Apparating to and from the camp is a pain, but yeah, most nights." He'd managed to get himself a job at the Leaky Cauldron, with Tom, like Remus had done when he was about the same age. The Leaky Cauldron got all sorts of patronage, and so werewolves didn't stand out there quite as much as they would in the Ministry, and knowing that a werewolf – even one as cheery as Matt – was in the vicinity, would certainly discourage fights and make people think twice about refusing to pay. A sly grin slid onto Matt's face. "Tom says I'm better than you, too."

"Of course he does," Remus said indulgently. Matt scrunched up his nose.

"He _does._ Says I actually talk to people, and I've taken to wearing gloves for when people pay with sickles, so..." Remus let Matt prattle on, while he cleaned the kettle with a charm, and then set it to boil. He opened the cupboards to look for teacups, and paused. Sitting innocently on the shelf, was a navy blue cup with the words _D.M.L.E. Auror Division_ on it.

After being attacked in his bedroom almost this time last year, Remus had taken most of his things – and Dora's things, which had accumulated from the number of times she'd stayed – and moved them to Grimmauld. Clothes, books, and Remus' photographs had all been moved. Mugs hadn't been on either of their lists of priorities, so there Dora's mug sat. Remus couldn't look away from it, couldn't help thinking of the small hand that had once clasped it, think of the lips that had once sipped from it-

"-listening to me?" There was a thump, which was Matt rapping his knuckles on the coffee table.

"Tea?" Remus asked him. Matt watched him for a moment, then shook his head and made his way into Remus' tiny kitchen. In the same way as one might look for a nasty spider, he peered into the cupboard, spied the mug, then shook his head again.

"You poor sod," he said, patting Remus on the shoulder. Remus quickly grabbed two teacups – one that had been his father's, and another that had come in a ghastly floral set that his Aunt Catherine sent him for his twenty-fifth birthday – and then slammed the cupboard shut.

He didn't think about Aunt Catherine, who lived in France now. He didn't think about who else lived in France now, and he _definitely_ didn't think about the owner of the mug's lips quirking up into a smile, or moving around her usual friendly 'wotcher' or pressing against his own.

"-make me say it, aren't you?" Matt sighed. Remus blinked and looked at him again. Matt groaned. "I'm sure this is absolutely pointless, because I reckon Sirius must have said something, but you're _still here_-"

"Sirius hasn't said anything about it," Remus said stiffly. "Harry's been the one on my back, oddly." Matt grinned. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't finish that sentence. I'm not in the mood to hear it."

"Fine," Matt said, putting his hands up. "Fine. Sorry I even brought it up." The pair of them drank their tea in silence. Remus – unable to help himself – spent it staring at the cupboard that held his mugs, and suspected Matt knew that, and kept quiet accordingly.

"Shall we?" Remus asked, when he'd banished their empty cups to the sink.

"Sure," Matt said, drawing his wand. "Bathroom cabinet?"

"I was thinking the wardrobe might be better," Remus said. "Boggarts prefer dry places."

* * *

><p><em>Diary?<em>

_Please, Ginny, call me Tom_, came the instant reply. Ginny wondered if it had been waiting for a response. The thought unnerved her a little, at least until she realised that it was a diary, and really, what else did it have to do but sit around and wait for her. _How have you been?_

That, she supposed, was a normal enough question for a diary to ask - if she discounted the oddity of a diary being able to talk - and she dipped her quill in ink and scribbled a response.

_I'm good,_ she wrote. _Thanks._ After a moment of consideration, she added, _What did you have to think about?_

_I was wondering how you came to have possession of my diary._

_I'm not sure,_ she admitted_. It came with my school things._

_But you aren't a student._ Ginny had the strangest sensation that the diary was amused.

_No, I'm not_. The diary was silent, and Ginny felt, abruptly, sorry for it, and decided to end her little game. _I start next week._

_Ah_, came the response. Tom's response, Ginny reminded herself. _Do you hope for Gryffindor, Miss Weasley?_

_I think so, _she replied. _All of my family have been there, and Harry, and Malfoy, and Hermione._

_A Malfoy in Gryffindor?_

_I'm a girl Weasley, _Ginny reminded him.

_Indeed. _The diary – _no, Tom_, Ginny thought – was blank for a few moments.

* * *

><p>Tom Riddle lounged in his black leather armchair, staring at the writing on the pages of the diary in his lap. He wasn't sure if young Ginny was stupid, or careful, or maybe it was something else altogether driving her simple answers. Still, if she wouldn't open up easily about herself, at least she'd offered her friends' names. Tom could work with that.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hogwarts is safe, right?" Draco asked. Before him, rested a pensieve, which Severus was having him add his memories to. Unlike Occlumency and Legillimency, pensieve magic was simple, and also safe for children to use. Draco would be thirteen in a year, and Severus had moved on to teaching him how to separate individual memories.<p>

"Measures have been taken after last year," Severus said, looking at his godson over the top of his lesson plans. "I assure you, you will not even be able to blow your nose without a staff member being aware of it."

"Even Potter?" Draco asked.

"Even Potter," Severus assured him. "Lupin, will, no doubt, be on the case." Draco looked troubled. "Has something happened, Draco?" Draco was silent, staring down at the pensieve. Then, he put his wand to his temple, and drew it away, murmuring the charm to extract a memory. He lowered it into the basin in front of him, and then out rose Dobby, the Malfoy's house elf.

Severus listened to the elf's warning, and the questions that echoed around him in Draco's voice, and then steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. The memory sank back into the pensieve.

"A bit fuzzy," Severus said, waving a hand at the memory. Draco ignored that.

"I wondered if Father had asked him to say that, that thinking Potter's in danger might make me stay away from him." Draco spoke lightly, almost earnestly, but Severus thought he was irritated. "But if that was the case, Dobby would have found a way to let me know, like he always does. So then I thought maybe Father didn't ask Dobby to say that, but that would mean that Potter really is-"

"It's a worrying prospect," Severus agreed. "Have you contact Potter?"

"I saw him at Diagon Alley-" Severus rolled his eyes; Draco had told him about Lucius and the Weasleys. "-but with everything happening, I didn't have a chance. I told Potter to send Kreacher, but he hasn't yet, or maybe I've been out-"

"I will contact Black," Severus said. Draco looked relieved. "And I shall speak to the Headmaster not," he added, when he saw Draco looking wary, "about details, but simply about security." Draco nodded. "I will also suggest you corner your odd little elf, and get any answers you can from him."

"Yes, sir," Draco said. He stared at the pensieve for a moment. "We wouldn't be able to stop by Potter's later, would we, sir?"

"That would depend," Severus said, "on whether or not you make suitable progress." He scratched out the second practical lesson in the first week of his plan for the fourth years; he would _ease_ his way back into lessons with the Weasley twins, he decided. It was decidedly harder – though not impossible – for them to blow things up in a theory lesson. "Does that sound reasonable?"

Draco didn't answer; he was, it seemed, thoroughly engrossed in the pensieve, with the aim of making 'suitable progress'.

* * *

><p>Tonks was entirely sure it wasn't healthy for her to be sitting at a small café in France, looking like Remus. At least, though, she wasn't deluding herself into thinking it was normal. She sighed and glanced at the small note hidden behind her newspaper.<p>

On it, was the address of the rundown café opposite the one she was sitting at, today's date, and the time (about two minutes from now, according to Tonks' watch); she'd had to hand her Sidekick in when she left Britain, and hadn't realised how much she'd miss it, both for using it to communicate with her colleagues, and for other everyday things.

She _thought_ the note was probably from her new program, but she didn't actually know and Mad Eye would organise a portkey to France to strangle her if he found out she'd just gone to coordinates that had been pushed under the door of her flat one night.

During her training, she'd got notes like her current one from Mad-Eye, and shown up, only to be ambushed by his rubbish bins, or stunned and told 'constant vigilance'. It was paranoid, perhaps, but she'd thought it best to arrive without fanfare, and even observe for a while.

Remus was a particularly good disguise; for one, his was a familiar shape, both because she knew him so well, but also because she'd _been_ him, when they all thought Sirius was evil and she'd worked for Malfoy. For another, his face didn't stand out, and anyone that looked too closely would be dissuaded by the tired, grumpy expression she was wearing. And, last but most importantly, it was one of the only disguises she could do, since her hair refused to turn any other colour than the one it currently was.

She sipped her tea again, and pretended to read the paper. It was all in French, and she hadn't learned any translation spells – or better yet, learned French – and so she was really only looking at the photographs.

A fat pigeon landed on the table next to hers, and hopped to adjust its balance; clenched in its little claws, was a piece of bread crust. Tonks sighed and stirred her tea, trying not to think about whose hands she was using to do so. Instead, she looked at the other café again.

Tonks was still waiting five minutes later, when a small, olive-skinned man slipped out of the breakfast crowd and made his way over to the café. Tonks watched, interested, as he glanced at a piece of paper that Tonks was willing to bet was identical to her own, and then disappeared inside.

She waited, but he didn't re-emerge.

A hand landed on her shoulder. Tonks jumped and spilled her tea all over the newspaper, but her wand was in her hand, which was what mattered.

"Easy," said a warm voice, "we wouldn't want to frighten the muggles." Tonks swallowed and glanced up at a young, Asian man, that – given his strong resemblance to the photographs in the books and articles he'd appeared in – could only be Ken Sato.

"Sorry," she muttered, dabbing her newspaper in her tea before it could drip onto her clothes.

"Hardy or Tonks?" he asked.

"Erm, Tonks," she said, offering him her hand. "It's great to meet you, really, sir, I-"

"Have you seen the others?" he asked.

"A man-"

"Ah, so you saw Sayed," Sato said, pleased. "You might as well come in now; Anastasiya's bringing Vengerov, and if she's got him, they can track the rest down." He moved so that she could stand. The pigeon took off, almost clipping Tonks' head with its wing.

"Filthy things," Sato said, wrinkling his nose.

"Do you mind me asking… how did you find me?" Sato didn't seem to mind.

"Tracking spell," he said. "On the note with the details."

Tonks wanted to kick herself; she'd checked it for poisons, and dangerous spells, and for portkey properties, but not for tracking spells. She just followed him to the café in silence. Inside, there were a few dusty booths and a small counter, attended by a bored looking teenager.

"Colbert," Sato said, and the boy nodded, waving them through to the next room. This one was nicer. The seats were clean and looked cosy, and light streamed through a window that Tonks suspected was like the enchanted ones at the British Ministry.

"Sit, please," Sato said, putting a hand on her shoulder for just a moment, and then he was over with a man with a silver beard, who Tonks knew was Elliot Pinard.

Four seats were occupied; one by Pinard, one by the man Tonks had seen earlier, one by a pretty, dark haired woman, and one by a curvy blonde girl, who blinked a few times, then offered her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Tonks," she said, in what was clearly an American accent. She smirked. "I won't call you Nymphadora; I know you don't like that."

"Nymphadora sounds like a woman's name," the other woman said disdainfully. Her English was very good, but she had a slight accent that made Tonks think she was Italian.

"Call her Tonks," the American said helpfully, before Tonks could.

"Tonks," the dark haired woman said. She offered her hand, and Tonks leaned over to take it. "Carla Marino."

"Tarek Sayed," the olive-skinned man said, and smiled a little nervously.

"I'm Joanna," the American said.

"Wotcher," Tonks said, a little nervously, and looked at the other man to let him know he was included in her greeting. The others all looked confused, but before they could say anything, the pigeon from the café hopped in, still clutching its bread crust. Sato's lip curled, but before he could do anything, the pigeon had pecked said bread crust, and bloomed into a scrawny young woman.

"Hey," she said, and then grinned at Sato. "I'm the filthy thing-" Sato had the grace to look abashed. "-but you can call me Beth. I'm from Australia," she added unnecessarily.

"I'm Joanna, that's Tarek, and Carla, and Tonks."

"Hey," Beth said again, and flopped into the nearest chair. Tonks, who was still standing awkwardly, went and sat opposite Tarek. Joanna babbled on excitedly, and Beth chewed her fingernails while they waited for the rest to arrive. Tonks decided she should stop looking like Remus, and assumed her normal features, though she couldn't do much about the sandy hair. Tarek gaped at her.

"Polyjuice?" Carla guessed.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," Tonks said. She gave herself a pig's nose, and then a duck's bill, and then remembered that Sato and Pinard were in the room and stopped at once, embarrassed.

"We're going to get on well, I think- Tonks, was it?" Beth said, grinning. Tonks gave her a tiny smile back.

Anastasiya Orlov – the third program coordinator – arrived about ten minutes after Tonks and Sato had. With her, seemed to be the rest of the group.

Everyone stared around awkwardly for a few moments, and then Joanna spoke up, introducing all of those already there, to the newcomers.

"Eldar," she said, pointing to a tall man with white blond hair, "Luc," a red haired man with a thick beard, "Asha," a stern looking woman with dark skin, "and Wan." The last was an Asian man with an eyebrow piercing.

"Oh," the woman named Asha said, staring concentratedly at the side of Joanna's head. "A seer. How nice." Tonks watched the exchange with interest. Asha's expression twitched for just a moment, and then Joanna frowned. Seeming satisfied, Asha swept over to a chair and sat down. "Of course," she said in response to nothing, and the red haired man – Luc – smiled at her and sat as well.

"Well," Orlov said loudly from the front of the room, "if you lot would settle, we can move on, I think?"

* * *

><p>Remus locked the door to his office at Hogwarts and then flicked his wand to open the battered briefcase in the corner. It opened, and out stepped the Boggart he and Matt had spent an hour trying to find in his semi-abandoned cottage yesterday.<p>

Remus had expected it to look like the moon, or to be Harry or Sirius hurt or dead, or Dora dead, or- well, something else awful. The last thing he'd expected it to be, was the mug.

Dora's navy and white D.M.L.E. mug, which, Remus thought, was about as tame as a boggart could get. He could only imagine how much Sirius would tease him if he knew Remus' greatest fear was a piece of cylindrical porcelain.

Remus decided not to think about that for the time being. A quick Riddikulus and some wrestling later, the Boggart was back in the briefcase, and Remus was perched on the edge of his desk, thinking.

_Maybe the Boggart's broken._ He snorted. _Why a mug? Does it think I really can't stand to look at something she's left behind? In fact, aside from me, it's the only thing she left behind; the rest was all packed up to go with her._

Remus went to bed still thinking on that, and when he final drifted into uneasy sleep, it was only for an hour; then, he was awake again.

"You picked this, now live with it," he said aloud, into his empty room.

_Then why, _a little voice in the back of his head murmured, sounding – which, at this stage, didn't surprise Remus at all – like Harry asked, _is your greatest fear that that mug is the only thing you'll ever have left of her?_

* * *

><p><strong>Hi all!<strong>

**Sorry about the slight delay on this one!**

**Things have all settled now, with travel and what not, so thank you all for being so patient for the last month and a bit, and putting up with slow updates!**

**It is with pleasure, that I announce I'll be back to updating each Sunday (the way I did with Initiate).**

**Enjoy!**

**MarauderLover7.**


	6. The Defence Professor

"Thanks, Molly," Padfoot said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I sent Remus a letter, but I never heard back, and I can't"-

"Not to worry, Sirius, dear," Molly said in a kind, but distracted way; Ron was calling down the stairs, asking if she'd seen his tie. "Harry's always welcome."

"Mum?" This time, it was one of the twins, not Ron.

"Excuse me," Mrs Weasley said, sighing. She headed for the stairs, then called over her shoulder, "Arthur's outside getting the car ready, Harry, if you'd like to put your things in before the rush." Padfoot checked his Sidekick.

"I've got to head off," he said grimly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am; I _asked_ not to work today-"

"It's all right, Padfoot," Harry assured him. Padfoot sighed.

"Try to get me on the mirror tonight? I want to hear about the feast, and about the first years."

"Sure," Harry said.

"And tell Moony we've respected his space for long enough-" They really had, Harry thought; it had been four days and they'd heard nothing. "-and that if he doesn't send me a letter – even if it's just a signed bit of parchment – that I'll be popping out of his fireplace for a chat."

"All right," Harry said, grinning.

"And be careful; hopefully Dobby's just paranoid, but after last year-"

"I know," Harry said, seriously. He took a deep breath and mustered a smile. Padfoot gave him a hug, and then vanished into the fireplace. "I'll be back for you," Harry told Hedwig, who clicked her beak at him, but was probably pleased her cage would be carried properly, instead of balanced on his trunk.

Harry did take Mrs Weasley's advice; he towed his heavy trunk out into the Burrow's garden and Mr Weasley helped him lift it into the car. A few, gently probing questions from Harry revealed that it was indeed the same car Ron had proposed they use to visit Draco, and Harry was still smiling to himself by the time the Weasley children started to bring their trunks out.

Ron appeared with Scabbers' swinging cage in one hand, his trunk in the other, and what appeared to be both Fred and George's brooms draped over his shoulders. "What are you grinning at?" he asked.

"The car," Harry said, relieving him of the rat.

"Harry, your owl's still in the kitchen," Ginny said, out of breath, and struggling with her trunk.

"I'll swap you?" Harry offered, and she smiled gratefully and passed the trunk over. "Do you want me to take that, as well?" he asked pointing at the slim book in her hands.

"No," she said, dancing out of reach, with the book clasped firmly in her hand. "Thanks." And then she turned and ran inside to get Hedwig.

"Did I say something?" Harry asked.

"Nah," Ron assured him. "It's her diary; she doesn't let anyone near it."

"Right," Harry said, thinking of the likelihood of keeping a secret diary while living in the same house as Fred and George. Ron seemed to read his mind, though.

"George tried," Ron said. "Then Ginny stole something from their room and the three of them were in there negotiating for about an hour."

"What'd she take?" Harry asked, amused.

"Looked like blueprints for a shop," Ron said, shrugging. "They're probably trying to work out a secret way into the joke shop in Hogsmeade, or something." Harry snorted.

"Right," Mrs Weasley said, stepping out into the garden with her handbag. "Ron, Harry, Percy-" He was already in the car. "-Fred- no, sorry, George-"

"Ginny," Ginny announced, carrying Hedwig out of the house. Harry noticed Hedwig was – very happily – crunching on an owl treat. "And Fred's just looking for his broom-"

"I had his broom; lazy git made me carry it for him!" Ron said.

"Quiet, Ron," Mrs Weasley said, ushering Ginny into the front seat. "George, go and get him, please. Boys, in you go, that's it. Do you have enough pebbol, Arthur, dear?"

"Petrol, Molly," Mr Weasley replied patiently. "And yes, plenty."

A few minutes later, the twins came back out and clambered into the back seat beside Percy, who sighed but didn't look up from his book.

Despite the fact that they'd left with plenty of time, the traffic in London was awful and Mrs Weasley wouldn't let them – to the displeasure of everyone else – fly to speed things up. They made it to the King's Cross with only a few minutes to spare once they'd parked and unloaded, and then George dropped his wand in the middle of the station and changed the colour of a sign.

None of the muggles noticed, thankfully, but Mrs Weasley, stressed that they were late, and apparently convinced that George had done it on purpose, marched both twins through the barrier herself. Percy strode through after her.

"Quickly," Arthur said, gesturing to Harry and Ron, and then, with a hand on Ginny's trolley to help her steer it, went through the barrier.

"Together, I reckon," Ron said, giving the station clock a grim look; they only had a minute.

"I bet," Harry said, as they started toward the barrier, "that we'll get the _worst _seats-"

And then that was all he could say because the front of his trolley had hit wall, instead of passing through, and then Harry toppled forward, knocking Hedwig's cage over. Next to him, Ron was sprawled on the ground, clutching his head. All around them, people were staring.

"What the-"

"Bloody hell!" Ron had his hand pressed against the stone barrier, and was staring at it in horror. Harry didn't bother touching it; it had felt solid when his trolley hit it. He picked up Hedwig, who was screeching and flapping her wings in her cage. Ron was righting Scabbers, who'd already gone back to sleep.

"Sorry, shh," Harry said, trying to pat her with a finger. She bit him. Scowling, he set the cage atop his trunk, and followed Ron away from the barrier in the hopes that people would stop pointing. "What do we do?"

"Dunno," Ron said, looking worried. "But we've missed the train." Harry tried to think; Padfoot was on duty in Azkaban, and even if he had his mirror, probably couldn't help them anyway. Moony wasn't answering his post, Tonks was in France, Marlene was working too, or she'd have taken Harry to the station…

"Harry," Ron said, "if we can't get through, do you think Mum and Dad can get back?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Harry said. "Why don't we go and wait by the car?" In a minute or so, hundreds of parents and relatives would be coming back through, and Harry didn't like their chances of finding Mr and Mrs Weasley amongst them all.

"The car," Ron breathed. "Harry, we can take the car to school!"

"Then what?" Harry asked. "They'd have to come and get it, wouldn't they?" Ron's face went blank, and then slightly green. No doubt he was imagining his parents at the school, and trying to explain it.

"What, then?" Ron asked. "Unless you've got a car-"

"Kreacher would take us," Harry said, "only I can't call him to the middle of a busy train station." He almost offered to Apparate them himself, but he hadn't apparated in a while, and didn't trust himself not to splinch himself or Ron. And that didn't solve the problem of their pets and luggage. Same went for Harry's broom, which could carry him and his trunk, but not Ron, and not through London where muggles might see.

"How far to yours?" Ron asked.

"Twenty minutes, but we've got trunks, and I've got Hedwig-"

"Maybe we could take the car there," Ron said.

"Or a bus," Harry said. "Only I don't have any muggle- Ron, the bus!"

* * *

><p>"Sitting with all your friends, She-Weasel?" Draco asked, poking his head into the compartment.<p>

"You're alone too," she pointed out.

"Not anymore," he said. "As long as you don't mind?"

"No, sit," she said at once. Draco dragged his trunk and Caesar's cage into the compartment. "Your owl's lovely."

"My owl hates me," Draco said flatly, and he did; Draco rarely used him, because he so rarely wrote home, and so Caesar spent most of the school term sulking in the owlery. "Where _are _the others?"

"I assumed they were off somewhere," She-Weasley said. Her expression was one Draco knew well; that of a person who cared but was trying not to. "I expect they'll come by. Maybe." She bit her lip and glanced past him into the corridor.

She was right in some ways; Granger appeared with her trunk only a few minutes after Draco, chatted with them both for a bit, and then asked after Potter and Weasley. She-Weasley shrugged, but looked worried instead of offended. Draco was feeling very uneasy; he'd had Dobby hovering over his shoulder all morning, telling him to be careful, and that he must remember Harry Potter wasn't safe. Knowing Potter's luck, it was entirely possible that something _had_ gone wrong, before he could even get on the train.

Draco sat with his back to the window, facing the compartment door, watching everyone that came past. At various points of the trip, their compartment had more occupants than just the three of them; Longbottom came by and stopped for a chat, as did the twins and Jordan – none of whom had seen either Potter or Weasley - and then, they were joined by one of She-Weasel's friends.

"Hello, Ginny." Large, blue eyes then fixed themselves on Draco. "I'm Luna," she said dreamily, and stepped into their compartment. Granger looked up from her book, arched her eyebrows, and then went back to reading.

"Hi," Draco said.

"You shouldn't sit like that," she said, sitting lightly on the seat next to Ginny's.

"Why not?" Draco asked.

"Sometimes, your reflection can come to life and hurt you," she said seriously. Granger made a quiet sound that might have been a snort, and Draco was trying to work out whether she was being serious or not. He moved a little anyway; just enough that he could see the green of the trees blurring past outside. "It's more likely to try if you're not looking at it."

"Luna, this is Draco Malfoy," She-Weasley said, her eyes bright, and rather amused from behind Luna. "And Hermione Granger."

"What House do you think you'll be in, Luna?" Granger asked.

"Ravenclaw, I think," Luna said thoughtfully. "Other than Ginny, I've never had any friends, so I don't know if I'm loyal enough for Hufflepuff, and Daddy says I'm brave, but I think I'm too sensible for Gryffindor-" There was no condemnation behind the words, just her odd, matter-of-fact sort of tone, but Granger flushed, "-and I think I'm too honest for Slytherin."

The compartment was silent for a few moments, and Luna started to hum to herself. Draco looked at Granger, who shrugged in a helpless sort of way, and then at the compartment door.

"Have any of you got a spare bit of parchment and a quill?" he asked. Granger, predictably, did, and passed them over.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We've been on the train for nearly two hours," he said, "and the others still haven't shown up… with Potter's luck…"

"Oh, don't remind me," Granger mumbled.

_Severus, _Draco wrote.

* * *

><p>"Hogsmeade as well?" the conductor asked. "Well, if that's the case, you can have the beds next to His Royal Highness." The last was accompanied by a roll of his eyes and a grimace, as he waved a hand at the back of the bus. "Should take us about four hours, so settle in, and I'll be around with sandwiches in an hour or so."<p>

"Thanks," Harry said, dragging his trunk toward the bed that the conductor had waved at. Once his trunk was tucked away, and Hedwig was secured – or as secure as anything could be on the Knight Bus – he flopped down.

"Should be interesting," Ron said. "This is my first time on here, you know."

"Interesting's the right word for it," Harry said grimly. He'd been on it several times, and much preferred flying or Apparating, or even using the Floo.

"Oh no," Ron said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You've got to be joking," Ron said, sounding abruptly disgusted. He pointed to the bed two away from his. Lying on it, was a man in lilac robes, with a matching lilac eye-mask, and curly golden hair. He looked vaguely familiar, but it took Harry a few moments to realise that the man was Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Reckon we can move?" Harry whispered, unwilling to wake Lockhart and be recognised. He seriously considered transforming into his wolf form and having Ron claim him as a pet, but Ron didn't know about that, and there was still the matter of Harry's things.

"The bloke said he's getting off at Hogsmeade," Ron replied, in an equally low voice. "What do you reckon he's going there for?"

"Probably got a book signing," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Ron sniggered, and Harry shushed him. "If you wake him up, I'm telling him that you've read all his books and want his autograph," Harry threatened.

"Who do you think I am; Hermione?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. "But if you tell him that, I'm going to tell him you want advice on manageable hair." Harry scowled.

"Then _I'll _say that…"

When the conductor brought them their sandwiches an hour later, he found them laughing so hard they were crying, in complete and utter silence.

* * *

><p>"We're not even that late," Harry said, looking relieved; he was pointing at little lights on the lake – which would be Ginny and the first years, with Hagrid – and more lights in the forest ahead of them, which Ron guessed was the rest of the school, travelling by the carriages Percy always talked about.<p>

Harry bent to let Hedwig out of her cage, and she immediately took to the air and headed toward the castle.

"Oi," Ron said, turning to look at Lockhart, who was dragging his many suitcases off the bus, with the help of the irritated conductor. "Do you have a way to tell the teachers we're here?"

"I'm afraid not, boys," he said.

_Useless, _Ron thought.

"A little exercise won't kill us, though." Lockhart had, to Ron's – and probably Harry's – horror, revealed that he was a teacher at Hogwarts this year, though Ron couldn't imagine what subject he was taking. What Ron did know, was that they'd be subjected to Lockhart's company until they reached the school. "Did you know, I won Witch Weekly's Most Athletic-"

"Here, Ron," Harry said. He'd taken his Nimbus out and had put it through the handle of his trunk. He did the same with Hedwig's empty cage, and then managed to slide Ron's trunk on as well. Harry kept his hand on the broom – no doubt to keep it afloat – and started along the path to the school. Ron, pleased to only have to carry Scabbers' cage, trotted after him.

"Very clever, Harry," Lockhart said. Ron was pleased to see he was struggling under the weight of his luggage. "In fact, it reminds me of something I did, while I was hiking in the Rocky Mountains…"

They'd only been with Lockhart for ten minutes, when a carriage – apparently pulled on its own - pulled up. Ron didn't think he'd ever been happier to see Snape. Lockhart, who'd been lagging for a fair while, looked ready to hug Snape. Ron almost wished he would, knowing Snape would kill the other man if he tried.

"A hand, if you don't mind, Professor," Lockhart called, panting. Snape, as Ron had expected, ignored him.

"So," Snape said, stepping out of the carriage, "the train isn't good enough for Potter and his sidekick?"

"The barrier sealed itself," Ron said, scowling. He had the bruises to prove it, but he doubted Snape would care. Snape arched an eyebrow. "So we missed the train."

"I'm aware," Snape said. "And once it became clear you _had_ missed it, you-"

"Caught the Knight Bus," Harry said. His voice was hard, but not unfriendly; Harry, Merlin knew why, had always had more tolerance for Snape than Ron.

"Surprised though I am that you avoided them, there were certainly worse alternatives to the one you chose." Ron tried to work out whether that was a compliment or not. "You did not, however, think to send anyone a letter with details of what had happened, or your whereabouts." Snape's mouth was a very thin line. "I had thought, Potter, that you'd been told to have a care for your safety, this year." Harry stared at his shoes, and Ron decided to ask him about that later.

"Safety!" Lockhart had finally reached them. "Really, they couldn't _be_ any safer than they were in my company." Snape smiled a very unpleasant smile. "You must have got my message and came to get us."

"You said you didn't know how to send a message," Ron pointed out.

"It's been a long day," Lockhart, with a pitying look at Ron. Then he looked at Snape. "The boy's hearing things. _Obviously_, I sent a message, because otherwise-"

"I saw Potter's owl coming in from this direction," Snape said silkily. Ron saw Harry try to hide a smile, but Ron didn't bother. "Your message must not have arrived yet." Ron sniggered as Lockhart's smile fell. Snape eyed Harry's laden broomstick, and flicked his wand. The broom, two trunks and Hedwig's cage vanished, and so did Scabbers' cage in Ron's hand.

"Mine can go to my room, Professor," Lockhart said, in what he obviously thought was a helpful way.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be to be able to send any object through the school's wards?" Snape sneered. He repeated the spell for Lockhart's things, and then said, "The house elves will collect them from outside the gate, and deal with them as they see fit." Ron hoped they dumped Lockhart's in the lake.

"Thanks," Harry and Ron said together, and Snape, surprisingly, nodded.

"Get in," he said, gesturing to the carriage. "I intend to see my House's new students be Sorted." Ron was abruptly grateful that his last name was so far back in the alphabet that he would almost certainly see Ginny's Sorting. Lockhart climbed in after them, and then Snape got in, stumbling slightly over the step. Snape cast an annoyed look at his leg, and Ron looked away before Snape could see him watching.

The carriage lurched and took off toward the school at a brisk pace. Harry had his nose pressed against the window and was watching the trees. Ron wondered what he was thinking.

"Are we-" Ron hoped he wasn't _making_ trouble here, but he had to ask. "-we're not in trouble, are we?"

"Your handling of the situation was better than anyone that knows you could have expected, Weasley," Snape drawled, making it clear that that _wasn't_ a compliment. "However, your communication was _very_ poor, and could have been easily remedied."

"You're giving us detention for not writing?" Harry asked, scowling.

"Not at all," Snape said in a smooth voice that made something in Ron wither and die. "I think it might be appropriate to remedy your lack of communication, by having you write letters."

"Home?" Ron asked.

"Your families were informed you were missing as soon as the school learned of it," Snape said dismissively. "They will be informed that you have been found when we arrive." He glanced at Lockhart and his lip curled. "No, I think it fitting that you write a letter of thanks to Professor Lockhart, for being kind enough to escort you back to school."

"A wonderful idea!" Lockhart said, beaming at them. Ron didn't know how, but somehow he'd missed the mockery dripping off of every single word Snape had spoken.

"I will, of course," Snape added, "draft them for you before you pass them on, to make sure that they are adequately _grateful_."

Ron managed not to groan. _Just._

* * *

><p>"Coming!" Tonks called, almost tripping over Canis, who was wound around her ankles wanting dinner. She nudged him out of the way with her foot, and then undid the locks – both muggle and magical – on her door. "Wotcher," she said faintly.<p>

Remus smiled at her. He looked tired, but she knew the moon wasn't for another week, and he also had several days' worth of beard on his face.

"Hello," he said quietly. Tonks licked her lips and saw his eyes dart down to her mouth.

"Would- do you want to come in?" she asked.

"Yes, please," he said, looking past her into the flat, seeming curious.

"I don't mean to be rude," she said, stepping back so he could come in, "but shouldn't you be at work?" School had gone back yesterday, after all, and Remus was a teacher. Surely he was needed there, not- well, surely he had other things to do than show up at her flat at eight-thirty at night, in France.

"I don't start until next week," he replied. He reached down to pat Canis, and almost got himself bitten for his trouble.

"Tea?" Tonks heard herself ask.

"Please," Remus replied. She busied herself in the kitchen, still too shocked to be angry or upset, or flattered that he was here. She burned herself twice on the kettle, and dropped one of the teacups on the way to Remus, and had to start again. "Are you all right?" he asked, as she summoned the sugar from the kitchen; she knew how he liked his tea.

"Surprised, actually," she said. Remus nodded, as if that was to be expected, and for the first time, looked nervous. "I hadn't expected to see you anytime soon."

"I suppose that's fair," he said. They sipped their tea in silence, and then Tonks, unable to help herself, spoke up.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you," Remus said.

"I'd worked that much out," she said, annoyed. She could see her reflection in the window, though, and her hair had gone an odd, red-orange. She was just pleased to see it a colour other than- well, other than the colour of Remus' hair. "How are Harry and Sirius? I've been meaning to write to them, but-"

"Sirius is busy with work," Remus said. "And Harry's too smart for his own good." He said that last bit a little darkly, but she didn't think he was angry, just annoyed. "I'm sort of dreading having to see him again, for the inevitable 'I told you so, Moony'." He made a face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Tonks told him. Remus' mouth twitched.

"How are things here?" he asked. "You would have started, surely?"

"Thursday," she said, watching his face. She almost expected him to look bitter, but he didn't and she felt guilty for thinking that way. "The people are…" She searched for a word before coming up with, "interesting, to say the least. One girl's a seer – a real one – and one man can do the most incredible things with wards…" She watched him closely, wanting to see his face when she said this next one, "And one of them, Remus, is a werewolf." She'd never been able to tell him about Florence – having him know about her could be dangerous for him, or for Florence if the information ever got out.

"Truly?" he asked, looked as surprised as she'd expected.

"He's from Russia, and it's- well, clearly it's not a very big deal over there. It just means he's faster and has better senses than the rest of us."

"I'd be interested to meet him, I think," Remus said, with a thoughtful smile.

"I- I almost wrote to you when I found out, actually," she admitted, after a few moments. Remus made a non-committal gesture, but didn't ask why she'd never sent the letter. She was grateful for that.

"I'd like to ask for a second chance," Remus said, almost too quickly for her to make sense of it. Almost.

"Ah," she said. Her heart was racing; on the one hand, she'd missed him horribly, and spent nights lying awake in bed, crying and hoping for a chance like this. On the other hand, there were reasons she'd ended it with him – fixable though they were – and Remus being here didn't automatically fix any of them. "You know I won't go back with you," she said. "I have- I'm going to stay with the course, here."

"I know," Remus said.

"And you have your job-"

"Yes," Remus said.

"And-"

"Dora," he said, "I'm asking – details like jobs, and money, and- and all the rest aside – whether you'll take me back."

"The details were the problem in the first place!" she said, scowling at him. Remus just sat quietly, nursing his tea. "Is this what _you_ want?" she asked. "Sirius didn't bully you into coming, or-"

"Sirius doesn't know I'm here," Remus said, with a slightly sad smile. "No one does, for that matter, except for Dumbledore."

"You haven't answered the question," she pointed out.

"I don't just want a mug," Remus said.

"What-"

"There was a Boggart, and- that's not the point. The _point_ is, that I've had some of the loneliest days of my life these past few weeks, and," he added mildly, "that's saying something when you consider my parents didn't let me socialise with other children when I was young, and that a good quarter of my life so far was spent with my friends dead – or pretending to be, in Peter's case – and in Azkaban." From his tone, he could have been discussing the weather, but his eyes were warm, and very focused on her. Tonks didn't know what to say. "I've missed you," he said, though that much was obvious.

"I- I've missed you too," Tonks said, with a shaky smile. "And- it means a lot to me that you're here, but- I mean, you weren't wrong when you said you can't afford to arrange international portkeys, and that you'll have commitments to Hogwarts, and I'll have commitments here-"

"Will you take me back anyway?" he asked softly.

"I- yes, of course I will! I just- I don't want to force-"

"I want this," Remus said, and warmth rose in Tonks' chest. "More than my job."

"Remus, you don't- you can't quit, you love teaching-"

"I already have," he said, shrugging. "I'm here to stay, if you'll have me-" He gave her a sly grin. "-old and stupid and dangerous as I am…"

"Oh, shut up," she said, then frowned. "If you're here to stay, then where are your things?" she asked.

"Dora," Remus said scoffing, "I was hopeful that we'd reach this point, but I think showing up with bags might have been a bit presumptuous." Tonks couldn't help but smile at that. She reached over and took his hand. It was sweaty, and she realised he'd been a lot more nervous about this than he'd let on. "For all I knew, you might have set your menace of a cat on me, and not let me in." Tonks waited impatiently. "They're in my office," he said finally.

"Office?" she asked.

"Did you know Dumbledore has connections all over the world?" She arched an eyebrow. "Did you also know, that Madam Olympe Maxime has a soft spot for halfbreeds like myself?"

"Who?" Tonks asked.

"And," Remus said, ignoring her, "did you know that Beauxbatons Academy was looking for a Defence Assistant, to help with demonstrations, and to take some first year classes?"

Tonks didn't know what to say. Her heart was in her throat, and she was so happy to have him back that she thought she was about half a second from bursting into tears and embarrassing herself.

"You- really-"

"I want this," Remus whispered again, and then pressed a kiss to her cheek. After that, he watched her, eyes warm, but wary. Tonks scowled and leaned over to give him a _proper_ kiss.


	7. Home Sweet Hogwarts

"How did you do it?" Bella's voice was petulant, and Sirius, who'd done his best to ignore her on his other shifts in Azkaban, found himself looking at her. Marlene hovered behind him, eyes narrowed, and fixed on his cousin. She'd been pretty once, in a dark sort of way, but Azkaban had long since taken her beauty and warped it. If Sirius had to find a word to describe his cousin now, it'd probably be thin, or haunted.

That said, Bella had been in prison for nearly eleven years, and seemed more like her old self than Peter, who'd only done a few years so far. Sirius couldn't help but wonder what her coping mechanism was; after the things she'd done, she shouldn't have been able to last this long, and still hold a coherent conversation.

"_Well?"_ She tapped her grubby, bare foot on the floor of her cell.

"Do what?" Sirius asked.

"Ruin my nephew," she said, and pouted at him. "Cissy says Draco's a Gryffindor." Sirius didn't think she could have said mudblood with any more disdain than she'd just used.

"We can't all be Death Eaters," Sirius told her. "There've got to be a few decent members of every family." Bella curled her lip.

"_Decent, _Sirius?" she cackled. "Auntie Wal would be rolling in her grave if she could see you now; a filthy, blood traitor Auror, raising that abomination you call a godson." After looking at the utter loathing on her face, Sirius promised himself he would do everything he could to make sure Harry never had to meet Bella. "I suppose you're back with this slag, too?" Marlene folded her arms. There was nothing on her face but scorn, and Bella, who seemed to have wanted a response, looked disappointed. "Or perhaps that beast of yours? You know the one I mean; Greyback's little friend. Either way, it's disgusting."

"Think what you want," Sirius said, shrugging. "It's been a long time since we last spoke, so I'll forgive you for forgetting that I genuinely don't care for your opinion at all." Again, Bella looked disappointed; no doubt she'd been wanting news, even if it was just from Sirius. News was hard to come by in Azkaban, and fuel for hours and hours of thought. Sirius didn't feel any desire to offer her that, if he could help it. She'd have to wait for Narcissa's next visit.

Bella was silent after that, and Sirius took the chance to walk away. A pair of dementors were lingering at the end of the corridor, but Sirius gave Padfoot a happy memory (or rather, a happy expectation; that he'd get to talk to Harry and Remus when this was all over) and walked on, with Marlene at his side.

* * *

><p><em>Each year they climb upon my stool,<em>

_Nervous and young and only eleven,_

_Welcome, young first years, to Hogwarts school!_

_Introductions first, yes, we'll start with that,_

_I am the original and the only;_

_I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!_

_The Founders, in their wisdom, left me to serve;_

_My job's to sing, then sit and listen,_

_And then to put you in the House you deserve!_

_For example, if you're bold and born of fire,_

_Then to Gryffindor you'll go,_

_To have adventures and lend a wand, when times are dark and dire._

_If that's not right, perhaps you're of earth,_

_And belong in kind Hufflepuff,_

_Where you value dedication, teamwork, and people's true worth._

_Or if you're full of dreams and water's friend,_

_Then off to Slytherin with you,_

_And on your cunning and practicality, we always can depend._

_And if still none of those quite seem to fit,_

_Then you're with air in Ravenclaw,_

_Clever and calm, and ready to learn all the teachers permit_

_So think a thought and through I'll comb,_

_I'll check your heart and mind,_

_And together, we'll decide: will Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Slytherin be your new home?_

"Go," Harry whispered, nudging Ron into the Great Hall. Under the cover of applause for the Sorting Hat's song, they were able to reach Gryffindor table without drawing too much attention to themselves; Draco and Hermione had saved a small amount of bench-space that they were able to squeeze into. Fred whispered something, but Ron shook his head at him.

Hermione seemed to be trying to ask a thousand questions all at once with her eyes – the result was a very, very odd facial expression – and Draco was staring at Snape, who, along with Lockhart, had just reached the staff table with much less fanfare than Lockhart had probably hoped for.

Snape had deposited him in a chair at the very end of the table, beside the teacher with big hair and glasses that Harry didn't know, and Snape had claimed his seat beside McGonagall. Harry scanned the table and was disturbed to find two things; one, that Moony wasn't there, and two, that now that Snape and Lockhart had arrived, that all of the staff chairs had been filled.

McGonagall caught Harry's eye for the briefest moment – probably just to unnerve him and let him know that she'd noticed them sneaking in – and then read the first name on her list of first years.

"Well?" Hermione hissed. Draco was watching the first years, but Harry could tell he was listening too.

"Long story," Ron muttered back. "We'll tell you over dinner."

"You're just lucky you made it in time," Draco said, out of the side of his mouth, as a tiny boy in too-big robes bounced up to the Hat and jammed it onto his head. "She-Weasley would've killed you if you'd missed her Sorting." He nodded at the mob of first years, where Harry could see Ginny's bright hair. She turned, spotted him and Ron and looked a tiny bit calmer.

"Good luck," Harry mouthed, and she smiled nervously at him, then turned to listen to something a blond girl was saying.

Hermione nudged him, and gave him a pointed look; Harry started to clap as the tiny boy hopped off the stool and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. He sat next to Neville, who patted him on the back, and grinned around at them all. Then, his eyes grew very round.

"You-"

"Quiet until the Sorting is over, please," Harry heard Percy whisper, from Neville's other side. The boy bobbed his head, and fell silent, but his eyes were fixed, rather unnervingly, on Harry.

Jack Entwhistle and Madeline Gnoller both went to Hufflepuff, and Astoria Greengrass went to Slytherin, while her sister – or twin, Harry wasn't sure – went to Ravenclaw. Draco looked thoughtful, but clapped more genuinely for those two than he had for the other first years. Harry wondered if he knew them. Then, Gryffindor gained a few new members; Andrew Higgs and Andrew Kirke went to sit down by Lavender.

Harry glanced over at Higgs – who was on the Slytherin Quidditch team - and looked resigned, but not angry at his younger brother's Sorting. Draco had already scooted over to talk to the new, unsure looking Gryffindor Higgs, and Harry and Ron exchanged grins and went back to watching the Sorting.

Luna Lovegood – who Harry had heard Ron and Ginny both talk about – went to Ravenclaw, Alice Noshi went to Slytherin, Gryffindor gained Demelza Robins and Georgina Trace, and then, finally, it was Ginny's turn.

Amidst whispers of "_Another Weasley?!"_ and "_Did they say Ginevra? As in, a girl?"_ she shuffled up to the stool and sat down.

Harry was nervous for her – he knew how much she wanted Gryffindor – and could only imagine how Ron was feeling. Draco had stopped his whispered conversation with Higgs, and was watching as well, and Fred and George looked unusually intent.

They needn't have worried, though; after only a few seconds, the Hat called "Gryffindor!" and Ginny hopped up, looking delighted, and came to sit opposite them, next to the tiny boy who'd been told off by Percy.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, getting to his feet. "I hope you all had safe and pleasant journeys here." His eyes landed on Harry, who grinned. Ron had a very sheepish expression on his face. Seeming amused, Dumbledore lifted a hand. "I won't keep you from your meals much longer," he assured them. Fred and George cheered. "But I must inform you – those of you returning, at least – that at very short notice, Professor Lupin has accepted a position at Beauxbatons Academy!"

The announcement was met mostly with stunned silence, but Harry could smell disappointment rippling through the Hall. Harry didn't know whether to be pleased (if he remembered right, Beauxbatons was in France, and there was only one real reason for Moony to have gone there) or to feel sick; there was only one member of the staff table whose job Harry didn't know.

"As a result," Dumbledore continued, "I would like to introduce your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Next to Harry, Hermione broke out into a fit of applause. She wasn't the only one, either, though Harry did notice it was mostly girls. Harry rolled his eyes and clapped twice, politely, before letting his hands drop into his lap. McGonagall and Snape, up at the staff table, had done the same thing, and so had Ginny, Percy and the twins (who looked absolutely devastated that Moony'd been replaced).

Lockhart had stood and tossed his hair back. He was giving the Hall a toothy smile and waving around at them all. Hermione sighed happily.

"Brilliant," Ron muttered, glaring at the front of the Hall. "There goes my appetite."

Dumbledore managed to talk Lockhart into sitting down again – with some difficulty – and then announced dinner, which popped into existence the moment he'd finished talking.

"I'm Colin Creevey," the tiny boy next to Ginny said breathlessly. "And _you're_ Harry Potter!"

"Nice to meet you, Colin," Harry said, a little awkwardly.

"Do you-"

"Hi, Colin, I'm Ron," Ron said, coming to the rescue. "That's Hermione-" She looked up from loading her plate, and smiled. "-and that's Ginny."

"Are you related?" Colin asked, pointing between Ron and Ginny. "You look alike, but I suppose that might not mean much; I don't think I look very much like my brother Dennis, and-"

"Fred," Fred said, appearing behind Harry with a plate in his hand. George, who was behind him, introduced himself as well, and then promptly shoved Ron aside and the pair of them slid into place beside Harry.

"Evening," Harry said, arching an eyebrow at them.

"Did you know about _this?_" George waved a chicken wing in Lockhart's direction, with a rather menacing look on his face.

"I had no idea," Harry said honestly. "And Dumbledore's not joking when he said short notice; Moony was here, getting ready on Thursday."

"But Beauxbatons?" Fred asked, pulling a face. "I mean, there are Veela in France, but he's with Tonks-"

"Who's gone to France for an Auror program," Harry said. Fred and George exchanged looks. "What's a Veela?"

But Fred and George weren't listening to him anymore; Ron had started to explain to Hermione, Ginny, Draco – who'd returned at some point and wedged himself into the seat beside Colin – and Colin what had happened that day.

"-sealed itself, and Harry and I ran straight into the stupid thing," he said.

"Sealed itself?" Fred asked. "Ron, that-"

"It _can_ happen," Ron said, obviously sensing where the conversation was headed. The twins – and even Hermione for that matter – looked skeptical. "It's true," Ron said. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

"You should see the bruises," Harry said, pulling a face.

"But that's tricky magic," Hermione said. "That barrier's been there and functioning for years, and the Ministry do checks and repairs and things. Surely-"

"Hermione," Harry pointed out, "half of magical Britain was there today. I'm sure _someone_ among them was capable-"

"Why?" Draco asked, frowning.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I mean, why bother?" Draco asked. "If it was a plan to get you alone, they could have."

"Easily," Harry agreed, making a face.

"So why didn't they?" Draco asked.

"Maybe it was Lockhart," Ron suggested.

"Ron!" Hermione said crossly, "Professor Lockhart is a very well respected-"

"Git," Ginny said to herself. Harry didn't think he was meant to have heard, but he grinned at her anyway, and got a sheepish smile back.

"-a joke, Hermione," George was saying.

"You're entitled to think that," Hermione said stiffly, making it clear she didn't agree. "Besides, what's he got to do with you two missing the train?"

Ron told the rest of the story – about almost trying to fly the car, before deciding on the Knight Bus, and Lockhart's eye mask, and meeting Snape on the way up to the school – with Harry adding bits and pieces that he'd missed. By the end of it, Draco and Ginny was sniggering, Fred and George were eyeing Lockhart, Hermione was frowning in Snape's direction, and Colin was wide-eyed with awe.

"Do you always do such exciting things?" Colin asked, looking from Harry to Ron.

"Unfortunately," Draco drawled, buttering his baked potato. "Granger and I are _trying_ to correct that habit, but with rather limited success, I'm afraid."

"I just can't believe Snape's punishing you," Hermione said, "even if it is only with a letter." Ron mumbled something sarcastic about _just_ a letter.

"If you're feeling upset about it," George said consolingly, "just imagine how many detentions you'd have if you _had_ taken Dad's car-"

"None," Harry said. Everyone looked at him like he was mad. "We'd have been expelled for sure." No one tried to argue with that; even Draco, who was usually Snape's defender just nodded and reached for the gravy.

"So what happens after dinner?" Ginny asked.

"Usually the fifth year Prefects take you firsties up to the tower, so you _should_ end up with the Lloyd twins." Fred nodded at a blond girl and boy sitting with Percy, Oliver and Angelina. Harry vaguely recognised them, but couldn't have named them.

"_But,_" George said, "Percy the perfect Prefect will probably usurp them both, so make sure you listen to him, and stay close."

"You absolutely _mustn't_ wander off and get lost," Fred said. "And you _definitely_ shouldn't get lost on purpose, or try to get lost in a group." He winked. Ginny scowled.

"You two are mean," she said, looking down the table at Percy, who was eating his Yorkshire pudding, oblivious.

"You're meant to be the fun one," George said, reaching over the table to nudge her.

"Well, I agree with Ginny," Hermione said. "Percy would be _so_ upset if he thought he'd lost someone, particularly if it was _Ginny_ that went missing."

"Imagine that," Ron – who'd looked disgruntled that he wasn't the 'fun' one – said. "_Dear Mum and Dad, I don't know how to tell you this, but I seem to have misplaced young Ginevra_-"

"Shut up, _Ronald,_" Ginny said, scowling again. Ron opened his mouth to say something in response, but at that moment, desserts started to appear and distracted everyone.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny, <em>Tom wrote, so relieved that she'd remembered him. _It's been a while._

_Sorry, Tom,_ she scribbled back. _I've just been very busy._ _Hogwarts is incredible! It's so nice to have my brothers around again, but I'm missing Mum and Dad lots. Percy showed me where the Owlery is, though, and he said I can borrow Hermes whenever I need to._

_How kind of him._

_And Draco said I can use Caesar too; his poor owl doesn't get to carry very many letters._

_The Malfoy boy? _Last time she'd written – admittedly, on the night she'd been Sorted into Gryffindor, a week ago – she'd still been calling him Malfoy.

_That's him, _she wrote. Tom watched the words fade back into the page, and thought what to ask next. She'd told him all sorts of things about her friends – or rather, her brother's friends – and he'd questioned her at length (as subtly as he could manage) on the Potter boy, though he'd thrown in questions about Malfoy and Granger and Ginny's brothers to keep her from growing suspicious.

He'd had to reveal his own, parentless past to get her to open up about Potter, but it had been worth it. As a child from a large, apparently loving family, Tom imagined he must have broken poor Ginny's heart when he'd told her about the orphanage. But, it had made her open up about Potter (who she'd mentioned had a godfather), and Tom had slowly pieced together the last fifty years.

His older self – for when Ginny had very reluctantly written the words _Lord Voldemort _in the diary, late one night he had recognised the name at once – had messed up, and badly. He was dead – or, would have been, had Tom not had the foresight to make his old diary a horcrux. There'd been a very messy war, that Ginny didn't know much about, and then Tom's older self had managed to get himself killed by an infant. Frankly, it was embarrassing, and he was hoping to rectify the situation as soon as possible.

Tom stabbed his quill into his inkwell.

_Are you enjoying your classes?_

_Some of them, _Ginny replied. _History of Magic is boring; our teacher's a ghost, which I thought would be fun, until I actually met him. He calls me Woolsy, when he talks to me at all. You'd think after six brothers, he'd know our name by now! _Tom waited. _Transfiguration is great, but I'm not very good at it. I might have to ask Hermione or Percy for some help, but I love Charms and Potions is easy, once you get past the fact that Snape is a git._

_I hope he hasn't been too rude to you,_ Tom said, and could almost imagine Ginny's smile. She'd be so flattered that he cared… or so he hoped.

_No, but he doesn't like Colin very much. _

_The boy from the feast?_

_He's one of my friends, now, _she told him. _He and Demelza are in all of my classes. And I have Charms and Transfiguration with Luna, and Luna introduced me to Vivienne, who's in Ravenclaw, and Vivienne's sister is in my Defence and Potions classes, but I don't know if I like Astoria yet._

_I see, _Tom replied, bored.

_Oh, and speaking of Defence, Lockhart is… well, I really don't know why Mum likes him so much. I've only had one lesson with him so far, but he seems pretty thick. He talked about himself for _ages_ and then he gave us a quiz about himself!_

_How revolting, _Tom said, and wasn't lying this time.

_I know! Apparently Professor Lupin left him a lesson plan, but Harry said that Professor Lupin would never have put that on there. Apparently the second years got the quiz too, and Fred and George don't have Defence until tomorrow, so I don't know if they'll get it too. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. _Tom tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Ginny beat him to it. _Demelza's just come to get me for dinner. I'll talk to you soon, and I promise I won't leave you for a whole week again!_

Tom wondered, with no small amount of irritation, if Ginny was beginning to think of him as some sort of pet. He waited for her to write something more, but nothing came, and Tom lowered his quill, and started to think hard about how exactly he was going to handle Ginny Weasley.


	8. Of Boggarts And Brothers

_Dear Sirius,_

_First off, thank you for being so understanding in your last letter; Remus expected you to send a Howler demanding him to come back to Engl-_

Then, there was a smudge of ink and the handwriting changed.

_I did not. Things are good here, in any case. Beauxbatons is very different to Hogwarts in a lot of ways; for one, quite a few of the students are only here during the day, and Portkey or fly home at night. For another, they don't have Houses. Students that live in the dorms are sorted by age and gender, and that's really it. I thought that was odd, but Madam Maxime thinks Houses incite petty competition, and you know, I think she might be right to some degree. How many times did we hex someone when we were younger, just because of the colour of their robes? On the downside, though, if students don't like each other here, it's often much harder to sort out, because it's _not_ just a House thing._

_They're all scarily well behaved, though; there hasn't been one prank, or anyone using anything old Filch would consider contraband. And no Peeves, either! I don't know whether that's depressing or a relief. _

_Classes are going well. Most of the students speak enough English for me to be able to get my point across, but they've all got Dicta-Quills, that translate everything, just in case, and they don't make _too _many mistakes._

_We've written a letter to Harry as well, but when you next speak to him, could you do me a favour and emphasise that I really am sorry he's wound up with Lockhart? I half expected Dumbledore would ask you, or- well, or _anyone_ but that silly git. On a much more entertaining note, I left Lockhart with my lesson plans, and the Boggart I'd intended to show my third years in their first lesson. Hopefully he's opened it up alone, and it's terrorising him in his quarters as we speak._

The handwriting changed again, to Dora's.

_The Auror stuff is brilliant, too! I told you in my last letter about some of the people, but they really are incredible! I _hate_ duelling them, though! In our course, I considered myself to be pretty good, but Tarek just puts wards around himself so I can't hit him, or puts wards around me that reflect my spells back at me, and Joanna knows what spell I'm going to use before I do (and so does Asha, for that matter; I think I might have to learn Occlumency), and Carla makes up all these odd new spells that I can't counter, and Wan's magic is wandless, so it comes from all around, instead of just from his wand. He cast a spell with his nose, when he was duelling Eldar! Who does that?!_

_Beth, at least, I can keep up with; her potions aren't much good in duels, and Luc's magic is all non-verbal, but there are ways around that too, because he can't speak verbal counter-charms. Eldar's quite weak with his range of spells, but he's bloody good at dodging and he tackled me to win yesterday. I'm still not sure how I feel about that, but Sato made a good point when he said that duels aren't always magical, or fair. I'm trying to work out how I can make my metamorphmagus stuff work for me beyond resisting spells and dodging in a duel, but no luck yet. Any ideas?_

_Anyway, I hope everything's going well there, and please come and visit if you can get a weekend off! We'd love to see you!_

_Love from,_

_Tonks and Remus._

* * *

><p>"Good of Flitwick to let us off early, isn't it?" Ron said happily, as the four of them trooped downstairs to lunch.<p>

"I don't think he had a choice in the matter," Draco said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. He'd said his summer wasn't too bad, but his smell and his behaviour said he was very happy to be back, as far as Harry could tell. "If he'd kept us much longer, my brain would've been dripping out my ears."

"Don't be dramatic," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't _that_ bad. Boring, maybe, but-"

"Boring?! We were dong cleaning charms, Granger. They're not interesting, even in the slightest; here I was, hoping we'd be learning to Disarm-"

"You're just grumpy because you were awful at them," Ron pointed out. Harry thought he had a fair point; Draco, who'd grown up with Dobby, had likely never had to dust or mop or wash a dish in his life, while Ron, who'd grown up watching his parents use and pronounce cleaning charms, had mastered it on his first try, before even Hermione.

"I think we're doing that in a few weeks," Harry said. "Moony said his lesson plans on Disarming were meant to line up with Flitwick's-"

"Yeah, but Lockhart's probably just going to teach us how to Disarm the heart of the _Witch Weekly_ publisher and get your face on the front." Ron rolled his eyes. "Next time I see her, I'm going to have a serious word with Mum about the people she fancies."

"Start with your father," Draco said, smirking.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, pursing her lips.

"You're a git," Ron grumbled. "Besides, your Mum probably fancies Lockhart too, you just don't know it." Draco actually stopped, looking horrified by the suggestion.

"You could write to her and find out," Harry added, grinning at him.

"Well," Draco said loftily, catching up with them again, "if you want to talk about writing and letters and all, how's your gratitude letter to Lockhart going- Ow, Weasley!" Ron, who'd just swung his bag at Draco's leg, gave him an innocent look.

They were some of the first into the Great Hall; other than Lavender and Parvati, who were at the Ravenclaw table with Padma and Cormac McGlaggen and Katie Bell, who were arguing about something to do with Quidditch, and some of the older students, it was just the four of them. They picked a spot as far away from Katie and McGlaggen as possible, and Harry checked his watch, hoping lunch would appear soon.

"-see Hagrid tomorrow morning," Hermione was saying, about twenty minutes later. "We've haven't got anything until after lunch, thanks to Astronomy tonight-"

"Brilliant," Ron said. "And we have lunch straight after, so he can't even try to give us his rock cakes-"

"They're not that bad," Hermione said weakly, but Harry just arched an eyebrow at her and she smiled. "Oh, all right, they're awful, but don't tell him-"

"What happened to you?" Draco's comment drew everyone's attention to Ginny, who'd just slouched in with Colin, Kirke, Higgs, and a small Slytherin girl, who looked at them all, uncertain, and then mumbled something about the Ravenclaw table and left.

"Lockhart happened," Ginny said, flopping into the chair next to Draco. Kirke, Higgs and Colin sat down nearby, but their attention was stolen by the twins, who were telling a story involving Filch, a butterfly, and four breadsticks.

"You smell burnt," Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Dragon." Ginny scowled and snatched an apple out of the bowl in the middle of the table.

"Dragons?" Hermione said, aghast. "What did Professor Lockhart do?"

"Well," Ginny said, putting a finger up, "first, he was ten minutes late-"

"Who says that's a bad thing?" Harry asked, grinning. Ron and Draco grinned as well.

"-because Professor Lupin left some books and papers and a briefcase behind, and they were taking up space in Lockhart's office," Ginny continued, ignoring Harry. She put up another finger. "So he decided to move them to the classroom, but tripped coming inside and _dropped_ everything, including the briefcase, which happened to have a Boggart in it."

"A boggart?" Harry asked. "As in the-"

"Shapeshifters that change to resemble the thing you fear the most," Hermione said.

"Yeah, yeah, ten points to Gryffindor, Granger," Draco said. Hermione didn't seem to know whether to be pleased or insulted.

"_Then_," Ginny continued, in a way that Harry thought was reminiscent of Mrs Weasley when she was dealing with the twins, "it turned into a banshee, and she looked so angry… That part was funny, actually; I thought he was going to faint. It's a shame she didn't scream at him, but that might not have ended so well for all of us."

"Lockhart's boggart is a banshee?" Ron asked, looking surprised. "I'd have thought it would be a giant pimple, or tooth decay, or a grey hair-"

"Or a broken nail." Everyone turned to look at Hermione, stunned. She blushed. "What? He's still very talented, just- well, he _does_ like his comforts." Ron snorted.

"Did it eat him?" Draco asked. Harry thought he looked hopeful.

"No," Ginny said sadly. "He ran off, though, saying he wanted to give us all some hands on experience without him interfering. Then that _thing_ turned into a werewolf-" She gave Harry an apologetic look. "-and a dragon, and then it was a vampire, which bit Georgina Trace, and then it was some bloke with green hair and a horrible red, scarred mouth, and- well." She shivered and took another bite of her apple. "Eventually we managed to distract it long enough for Colin to get out of the classroom and find McGonagall, and she came and saved us."

"Professor Lockhart didn't come back?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"He's probably having a bubble bath to soothe his nerves," Draco said, patting her arm. "I'm sure he's fine." Hermione gave him a withering look, but Draco grinned at Harry when she turned away.

"What was yours?" Ron asked. Ginny shifted, looking embarrassed.

"It's silly," she warned, not looking at any of them, "but it was losing my diary."

"That isn't silly," Hermione said at once. Ginny smiled at her, and stole half of Ron's sandwich from his plate. Ron, who'd just taken a bite of the other half, made a full-mouthed, muffled protest, but Ginny just pulled a face at him.

After lunch, they had Herbology, which they spent developing a fertiliser for the mandrake seedlings they'd repotted in their first week of school, and after that, was History of Magic, which was as dull as ever; Hermione and Draco, like usual, were the only ones that paid any attention. Ron, Seamus and Susan all slept right through it, and Harry, Neville and Dean played hangman on a scrap of parchment.

Dean, who was fairly talented with a quill, drew the hanged men with good detail, making all three boys laugh when he deliberately made an arm too small, or a beard to thick, or gave the hangman a happy, smiling mouth instead of a sad or screaming one.

"Bagpipes?" Dean asked Neville, groaning, as he drew the last feature on his hanged man.

"My uncle Algie plays them," Neville replied, shrugging.

"What was that, Lungtotten?" Binns asked, peering at Neville, who'd spoken aloud.

"Nothing, sir," Neville replied. "Sorry."

"Hmph, well… As I was saying, the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards contained Johnathon Fluteworthy, who, in 1270, singlehandedly ended a siren attack on what we today, know as the English Channel, and was, after doing so, awarded the first Bravery Against Fantastic Beasts Award, which is, to my knowledge, still presented to witches and wizards worthy of its honour due to feats of magic or negotiation where magical creatures are concerned…"

Harry didn't know how a siren attack could be made boring, but somehow, Binns had managed it. In an attempt to remember something from the lesson, he quickly wrote _Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, Sirens, Award_ onto his blank parchment, and then pulled the hangman sheet toward him.

Harry struggled to think of a tricky word. He looked down at his notes for inspiration, and then when that yielded nothing, glanced at his school bag. The letter he'd received from Moony and Tonks that morning at breakfast was poking out the top, and Harry grinned to himself.

_I wonder if they can guess metamorphmagus…?_

* * *

><p><em>Hello, Ginny, I hope you've had a nice day.<em>

_Hi Tom. _Ginny yawned. She was so tired, and wasn't really in a talking mood, but poor Tom was trapped in there, and if she didn't talk to him, who would? _I have, thanks. I went to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch trials with Demelza and Ron and Draco. Fred and George are back on the team, and so is Harry. _She sighed. _I was hoping to try out next year, but after watching Gryffindor's Chasers, I don't think I'd have a chance._

_I've never seen you on a broom, so I'm afraid I can't comment, _Tom said, and Ginny sighed again. _But if your skills match your enthusiasm for Quidditch, then I wouldn't let yourself be dissuaded. _Ginny smiled; over the summer, she'd smuggled the wizarding wireless away to her bedroom, and dictated the Harpies-Magpies match for him.

_Thanks, Tom. You're always so nice._

_It's hard not to be, when I'm talking to you. _Ginny blushed._ Can you tell me more about your day, Ginny? I've been awfully bored lately._

_I thought you said you were working on a project?_

_I am, but it's taking a long time, and leaves me very tired._ Ginny wondered if it was even possible for a diary to get tired. _Please, Ginny. I love hearing your stories._

_Well, I had breakfast with Ron and Hermione this morning because everyone else slept in. I really like Hermione; she's so smart and nice, but I really don't know how to have friends that are girls. Luna's great, but she's very different to other people, and I don't know Vivienne very well yet, and Astoria's _sort _of starting to be nice, but she's still not around much. And Demelza's nice too, but she's good friends with Georgina, who I don't really get along with, so they go off together a lot._

_Georgina's the one who saw a mouse and screamed in your first week? _Tom asked.

_Yeah, _Ginny said. _I mean, it wasn't even hurting her, it just ran across the dormitory. If that had happened at home, I'd have found it in my bed two days later, or had it thrown at me._

_Your brothers can be very cruel, _Tom said. _I don't know that I could deal with them half as well as you do._

_That's why they're _my_ brothers, _Ginny told him. _Because I know how to get along with them. And what do you mean _cruel? _They're just having a bit of fun._

_At the expense of others, though, _Tom said. _I remember you telling me about what they did to that Zabini boy after breakfast a few days ago._

_It was just a stink pellet,_ Ginny said, defensively. _And he just sort of huffed and walked away, he wasn't actually upset. _And_ I heard Harry talking to them about it, and they said they're going to leave him alone from now on. Zabini's a friend of Harry's, I think._

_Ah, so your _older_ brothers have to be told how to behave by a second year…? And what about when you told me they put magical lettering on Filch's cat that said 'Kick me'-_

_No one did, though! _Ginny said.

_But she's a cat. Not a student that can hex them back, or a teacher that can give them detention, just a helpless, non magical-_

_Mrs Norris is awful, though, _Ginny said. She didn't usually cry, but she could feel angry tears prickling her eyes. Her writing was starting to suffer for it too, and she thought that might have been what tipped Tom off.

_I didn't mean to upset you, Ginny_, he said. Ginny wiped her eyes impatiently, and glared at the diary. _I just don't think your brothers are as brilliant as you do, and I worry that they'll hurt you-_

Ginny slammed the diary shut and threw it at her trunk.

* * *

><p>"<em>Fluctus Fieri, <em>Mr Weasley; try to draw out that last syllable, else you'll end up with- well, some sort of mutation." Weasley grunted and repeated his spell until she'd nodded her approval. Then, she turned to Draco. "Mr Malfoy, do try to watch your bat. I'd hate to see you miss and instead hit one of your classmates." Her lips thinned and Draco nodded and mumbled an apology. He'd been up with Severus until curfew, playing with the pensieve again, and was too exhausted to function very well at all.

"Mr Finnegan, unless you want to blow up the classroom, unbend your wrist!" McGonagall swept away, to where the Finnegan was sitting next to Thomas, Smith and Enthwhistle. Smith was – like usual – running his mouth and lost five points for Hufflepuff when McGonagall reached them. Draco – who'd never liked Smith very much – smirked.

"It's all in your pronunciation, Ron," Granger was saying nearby.

"You haven't got it right yet either," Weasley pointed out. Granger scowled at him.

"Sorry for trying to help," she sniffed, and turned back to her own work; all that was left of her bat were two wooden, fanlike wings. She was close, but not – as Weasley had pointed out – finished. Potter, on the other hand, had a simple fan sitting on his desk and was lounging back in his chair. During his stays at Grimmauld Place, Draco had seen Mr Black sitting the same way.

Granger gave Potter a frustrated look and tried her spell again, this time, managing to fix her transfiguration; on her desk, lay a simple blue and white fan and her hand flew into the air to call McGonagall over.

"_Fluctus fieri,"_ Draco said, poking his bat with his wand. It opened one eye, glanced at him, and then tucked its head under its wing and went back to sleep. Draco huffed at it.

There was a loud crash, as Potter tipped his chair back too far and landed on the classroom floor. Several of the bats flapped their wings, and Moon's bat actually flew up to the ceiling to hang from one of the support beams instead.

"Here," McGonagall said, nostrils flaring, "lies the reason I suggest my students keep all four of their chairlegs firmly on the ground." Smith sniggered, and – unable to help himself – so did Draco, as Potter flushed bright red, righted his chair, and sat down gingerly.

Draco rather thought the only reason McGonagall hadn't taken points was that Harry had already done his transfiguration successfully.

By the end of the class, Draco, Hopkins and Price had all been assigned extra homework, and McGonagall had looked at Brown's winglike fan and suggested she could benefit from some further reading as well. Draco yawned and tossed his things into his bag, wondering if he could sleep through Charms without Flitwick noticing.

Weasley was up ahead, chatting animatedly with Potter and Longbottom, but Granger was waiting patiently for Draco in the corridor.

Granger opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, there was a shriek and the corridor ahead of them filled with large, billowing clouds of some sort of powder. Peeves' cackling started from a side corridor, as the students caught in the cloud started to burp loudly, and behind them, McGonagall stepped out of her classroom, looking furious.

Draco caught Granger's eye and the pair of them turned around to find another way to Charms.

* * *

><p><em>Tom, are you there?<em> Ginny wiped a tear off the diary.

_Ginny?! Is everything all right? Are you crying?_

_Tom, I'm so sorry I got so angry yesterday! _Ginny dipped her quill in ink again, and pressed it to the worn paper. _And you were right! Fred and George _were_ cruel today. _Ginny's stomach churned horribly. Today, they'd saved Harry from a photograph with Lockhart by turning Colin's camera into a large fish. Ginny'd thought it was all very funny (Harry had somehow disappeared into thin air once Lockhart was distracted) until she realised how upset Colin had been.

They'd changed his camera back, or course, but damaged the film in the process and Colin hadn't been at dinner, nor had he wanted to speak to Ginny when she went up to talk to him. Fred and George had just laughed and told her he'd come around when she suggested _they_ apologise.

Ginny told Tom all of that, and when she was finished, he was quiet for a moment.

_It's not fair of Colin to blame you for what your brothers did, either, _he said. _That's unkind of him._

_He's upset, _Ginny wrote, defensively.

_But now he's upset you._

_I just- I'm not sure _how_ to fix it. I mean, Fred and George didn't _mean _to upset him, but they still did! But the only people who've ever been angry with me are my family, and either we sort it out, or Mum does, so no one's ever upset for long, except sometimes Percy. But Colin's different to my brothers and I don't know what to do-_

_Let me think about it, _Tom said. _I don't know that I've ever had to deal with a situation quite like this one. _Ginny stared at the page, disappointed. _I'd just like to- _The writing appeared and then vanished before Tom finished writing. _It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to tell me things like this, _Tom wrote. _Most people wouldn't even think I was worth talking to._

_I love talking to you, _Ginny wrote at once. _You're so clever, and nice, and you're very good at listening. _She wiped away the last of her tears. _I don't know how people get by with normal diaries._

_I'm so glad it was you that found my diary, _Tom said. _So glad, in fact, that I'd like to tell you about my project._

_Really? _Ginny wrote excitedly. _What is it?_

_Do you trust me?_

_Of course, Tom! _Ginny double-checked her bed hangings were closed and gave the diary an impatient look.

_Then let me show you._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hi all, <em>**

**_Hopefully you're enjoying Identity so far!_**

**_This is just an announcement from me to say that I will be changing my update day from Sunday to Monday._**

**_Until next week,_**

**_MarauderLover7._**


End file.
